


Beast You've Made of Me

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Let The Spectrum In [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And a whole lot of back references to the series, Gen, Here there be consequences, Politics, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, The systems and consequences of the Galran Gladiator battles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 48,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8620450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: The Alteans once had powerful allies.  Some were wiped out, and some fell.In hopes of regaining powerful friendships, the team land on a planet to search out signs of rebellion against the Galra.  What they find instead are old acquaintances, court intrigue, and old wounds.Or: One time the universe conspired to make Shiro's life hellThe final part of the Spectrum series.  Now complete.





	1. The Museum

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the amazing Ashinan, and the original idea was co-created by Tropic. So it's not _entirely_ my fault this time!
> 
> (Yes it is)

“It’s not surprising,” Coran told them, shoulders slumped and expression flat.  “Just disappointing.”

Shiro swallowed hard and glanced at the view screen of the control room.  It showed a planet, the side they were facing lit brightly against the night.  Shiro could see the halo around the other side of the planet from their sun.  Despite that, there was steady air traffic.  Including ships that were obviously Galra made.

While Shiro could see a defense system slowly orbiting the planet, he couldn’t see any signs of strife.  None of the devastation that the Galra inevitably left behind, and the ships weren’t flying in any kind of seeking pattern.  Just getting from point A to point B.

The Galra owned this planet.  Probably for a long time, now.

“Forgive me, but I don’t understand the significance of this planet,” Sam said, tapping his cane idly against the floor.  “The Galra’s control of the universe is a terrible thing, but I don’t think it’s been explained why this planet in particular is one we’ve decided to look into.”

Allura and Coran shared a wide-eyed look and Shiro knew very well that was their ‘oh, yes, the humans don’t know anything’ stare.  “The Kratok were once important allies of Altea,” Allura replied, just a touch slowly.  “In fact, they helped build the systems that went into Voltron.”

Heavy silence fell.  “And the Galra control them?” Pidge muttered.  “When you say help, what do you mean?”

“For one, many of the materials used in building Voltron were mined and shopped on Kratoka,” Coran replied, frowning at the screen. Each Galra ship passing by made his shoulders tense.  “And much of the displays were manufactured here as well.  But it wouldn’t be enough.  Without the energies of Altea, it would just be another machine.  The Galra didn’t gain anything here in terms of information.  They did, however, gain the materials.”

Hunk tilted his head.  “Why doesn’t this look like the Balmera, then?”

Eyes bright, Coran straightened up.  “Because in doing so, the Galra would have destroyed a significantly more valuable resource: the manufacturing and building potential of the Kratokan people.  The materials were wonderful, but without the machining knowledge to work it to it’s full potential, the Galra would have found it no less useful than any other metals.”

“So the Galra took over gently?  Weird.”  Lance shook his head.  “But that doesn’t mean those people accept it, right?”

Allura shook her head.  “I can’t imagine they do.  They were always so proud.  But it’s been 10,000 years.  Who knows anymore?”

“Can’t we check?”  Keith asked, brow furrowed.  “I mean, I don’t know where we’d land or anything, but we can at least look around.  We did it on the Galra trade ship, so why not here?”

Pidge’s brows rose.  “Yeah, that didn’t go so well, though.”

Frowning, Keith shrugged and rubbed idly at his palm, as though he still felt the sting of where he’d been splashed.  “Still.”

Hunk nodded slowly.  “I don’t think it’s a bad idea if we don’t stand out too much.  Would this be the kind of place everyone looks like the same species?”

Coran paused, thinking about it. One ear twitched thoughtfully.  “I doubt it.  There’s still trade, and with Galra occupation there’d be beings coming and going.”

“We do go places all the time and don’t get spotted,” Lance agreed.  “If we go down in a pod instead of the lions, I think we’d be okay.  Especially if we can cloak it.”  He looked to Pidge, who nodded easily.  “I’d say we should do the Green Lion, but even with the invisibility it’d be easier to spot.  We can be in and out and make a call then.  For all we know, they’re waiting for an excuse to fight back.  Voltron’s a pretty good one.”

“Hey, we came all this way,” Matt chimed in, brows up.  “We might as well try, right?  Otherwise we just spent a week getting here for nothing.”

Glancing at Allura, Coran inclined his head in agreement.  “It’s dangerous,” he allowed.  “But no more than what we usually ask.”

The wording made Allura’s lips thin, but she nodded.  “Alright, but not for long.  The defenses and resources of this planet used to be tremendous and I doubt they’ve been downgraded since the Galra took over.”

“So we’ll be quick,” Shiro replied, nodding.  “And if there’s anyway they’d be interested in pushing out the Galra, that sounds worthwhile to me.  Especially if it keeps everything they have out of Zarkon’s hands.  So bring your cloaks and we’ll meet at the pods.”

Coran stepped forward.  “And me.  The pod will have enough room.  No one here knows the area like I do.  You’ll want the capital city and unless it’s been completely rebuilt, I can help you.”

That was a good point and Coran would be able to shift to better fit in with the populace anyway.  “Good point,” Shiro replied, and ignored his own slight discomfort.  He hadn’t been one-on-one with Coran since snapping last week.

But that was so minor compared to this that it didn’t matter. Besides, this wasn’t one-on-one either.  It was a mission.

“You have half an hour,” he told the other paladins.  They scattered quickly to get their supplies and Shiro followed after, already mentally listing off what he needed as well.

Once in his room, Shiro stopped, brow furrowed.  “Kratok,” he murmured.

It sounded familiar.  He must have heard it in captivity.

Shiro just had no idea why that would be.

***

“The cloaks were a good idea,” Hunk muttered, wrapping his closer around him.  “It’s freezing.”

Pidge hummed, holding up her pad.  “Not quite.  Current temperatures are about 5 degrees celsius.”

Grumbling, Hunk shook his head.  “So, as good as?”

“The Kratokan are adapted for colder temperatures,” Coran said through his chattering teeth.  He looked more miserable than Hunk, if that was possible.  “They have a dense fur coat.  This is their summer season.”

Hunk shook his head.  “We are not coming back then.”

“Let’s worry about that after the first hour,” Shiro suggested drly.  “For now, ears and eyes open.  Since we don’t know what we’re looking for, stay alert.”

He got a round of eyerolls for that, which Shiro ignored with practiced ease.  If he sounded like a mother hen, it was worth it to get them to focus.

The pod had dropped them into the local forests, cloaked to avoid detection and small enough to avoid kicking up a fuss, even on the busy planet.  The edges of it trailed up into the capital city like reaching fingers, striping deeper in, so they were able to walk out almost directly into streets.

The bustle was impressive and Shiro took a moment to look around.  Bikes and ships buzzed overhead and on the streets, carrying boxes and passengers. But more were walking around, some beings wearing thick clothing bundled close, while others walked comfortably despite lack of layers.  The ones who seemed fine were nearly all furred, walking up on two legs with squat, square faces.

Something about it rang a bell, but Shiro couldn’t place what.

That was, until Pidge snorted.  “Be our guest,” she sang under her breath, snickering.

Hunk perked and started to laugh as well.  “Oh, man, they do look like that, don’t they?”

At first, Shiro’s brow furrowed, not sure what they meant, and then he remembered the Disney version of  _ Beauty and the Beast. _

Oh.  Maybe that was where he knew it from.  Not everything had to be because of the Galra, after all.

“This way, this way,” Coran told them, marching down the road with purpose.  Brows up, Shiro followed after, more than a little amused.  “Yes, it should be just a few roads down from here, seems like the basic layout is just the same as ever.  Oh, but the fountain is gone, huh?  Shame, it was absolutely lovely.  Lucky they didn’t try to replace it with something else, I’m sure it would have been in poor taste.”

“And if you look to your left, you’ll see more alien buildings,” Lance muttered, and Shiro knocked their shoulders together to shush him. At least before Coran heard the teasing.  It was unlikely to bother him but he might take it as a challenge to talk more and they just didn’t have the time for that.

Coran led them through the winding paths, occasionally pausing and checking their surroundings before continuing on.  There didn’t seem to be any kind of rhyme or reason to the building pattern and Shiro was vaguely reminded of Boston.  He hadn’t been there long for the Kerberos press tour, but trying to find a place to eat after the interviews had convinced him that the entire city either had an amazing sense of direction or an astonishing amount of their data went to GPS navigation.

“Ah, here we are,” Coran said as they emptied into a main street.  The traffic, both foot and overhead, increased several times over and Shiro pressed against the side of the building so they all didn’t get run over by a pair of Kratokans speed walking by.  From a distance, they had hadn’t looked big, but up close Shiro barely came up to their collarbones.

He wasn’t used to feeling short.  Shiro didn’t really like it.

“Heads up,” Keith muttered, nodding down the road.  Following his gaze, Shiro sighed at the sight of a handful of Galra soldiers walking along the sidewalk.  But they didn’t seem particularly vigilant.  Either they were off duty or this was a cushy position.

Which didn’t bode well for them.

Coran frowned, his mustache twitching unhappily, and then he turned and walked in the other direction.  “We’ll want to see the castle before we leave, I think.”

By now, they wouldn’t have needed a guide, though Shiro was glad to have Coran there anyway.  What had to be the castle twisted into the sky, a good several stories taller than anything else around it.  In the narrow paths before they hadn’t been able to see it, but it must have been visible from any of the major streets in the city, or anytime someone was riding their hoverbike.

“Should we be worried about getting in?” Hunk asked, glancing over his shoulder nervously.  Shiro reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to relax.  I did them no good to actively look suspicious after all.

Humming, Coran clasped his hands behind his back.  “We might.  When we were here last, the castle stayed open most days for concerns and discussion to be raised.  But I couldn’t tell you if that’s true now.”  He sighed.  “I do hope so.  King Martu would never have allowed the castle to be closed to the people.  But he also would have fought the Galra with every breath.”

Lance frowned and trotted over until they were walking shoulder to shoulder.  On the busy street, Shiro couldn’t catch his words exactly, just the cadence of his voice.  He seemed to be just chatting, probably trying to pick up Coran’s mood.

It really was odd to see Coran so upset.  Maybe it was because he was trying not to catch anyone’s attention but his mood was unusually subdued.  

Squinting, Pidge leaned forward.  “I think I see the gate.  Does it look open to you guys?”

“I think so,” Keith muttered, shaking his head to get his hair out of his eyes.

Shiro hummed.  “Maybe.  But just because the gate is open doesn’t mean we can walk in.”  Still, it was a hopeful sign.

They had to cross over a bridge to get to the door, which made Pidge mutter something about cliches and moats, but they were able to just... walk in without an issue.  There were guards posted, all Kratokan, but they watched impassively and almost sleepily.

“I wonder if they’re supposed to be impassive all the time,” Hunk muttered, head swivelling to keep watching as they walked in.  “Like at Buckingham Palace.”

Shiro snorted.  “I hope we don’t have to find out.”  Hunk nodded in wide-eyed agreement.   

Stopping suddenly, Coran turned around in a circle, expression twisted in dawning horror.  “This isn’t - when did...?”

Brow furrowed, Shiro looked around as well.  There were hallways sectioned off, with signs in a script he didn’t understand, and others open.  The walls were lined with holograms of Kratokan leader after leader, all scowling and regal.  But then they were interrupted and separated and the rest looked much more friendly and calm.  Walking over to the plaque between the two groups, he saw the symbol of the Galra empire along with a scrolling display.

This had been the point in time they took over, then.  So the rest looked mean and cruel, while the latest looked understanding because this was...

This was a museum.  A Galran propaganda museum.

Looking up at the ruler right after the take-over, Shiro felt an uncomfortable shiver run through him.  The hairs on his arm stood straight up and he had the sudden desire to run.

But no flashback threatened.  Shiro was uncomfortable, but still in the room.  He could work with that.

“So, what now?” Lance asked.  “I don’t really see any sign of what we’re looking for.”

“This wouldn’t be the place for it,” Keith pointed out.  

Pidge glanced around and sighed.  “Well, then we’re in the wrong place, aren’t we?  We could search for weeks and not find anyone who wants to rebel.  This place isn’t...”  She paused, like she was trying to find the right words.  “They’re not oppressed.  At least not in this city.”

They really weren’t.  Maybe they were under Galra occupation but no one here seemed bothered  They hadn’t known anything else, so why would they be?  This was just their lives.

Coran drooped visibly.

That made the call for Shiro.  “We’ll wait out the hour.  I think the royal family still lives here.”  He squinted again at the Galran text, trying to figure out if he was reading it right.  He could only pick up one word in four, not counting what looked like names and dates.  “We’ll keep an eye out.”

Nodding slowly, Coran set his shoulders.  “We’ll see.  A good ruler will have the best interests of their kingdom in mind after all.”  He nodded, seeming to decide.  “We’ll look around and see if we hear anything.”

It was beyond surreal to start the walk down the hallway.  It started with the old families, showing their previous independence and resistance to the Galra as foolish and arrogant.  It showed suffering under their regime, how the battles and manufacturing had made their people suffer through battles and shortages.

Stomach twisting, Shiro shoved away his remaining embarrassment from the other week and rested a hand on Coran’s back.  He got a distracted smile in return.  It didn’t get close to reaching Coran’s eyes.

Finally, they stopped in the room where the Galra overtook the planet.  But it wasn’t through force.  The king from the foyer outstretched his hand to a Galra commander.  He was decked out in finer now, made to look regal and splended.

“Oh, Jolin,” Coran muttered sadly.  “Why would you?”  At the paladin’s curious looks, Coran closed his eyes.  “Jolin was Martu’s son.”

Pidge winced. “Did you know him?”

Nodding, Coran looked away.  “As a young boy.”

There wasn’t really anything they could say to that.  Lance stepped forward again, no longer speaking but just staying close to Coran.

Shiro felt for Coran and his disappointment, but he could understand as well.  By then, the Alteans had been killed off as far as anyone knew and the castle and Voltron were all gone.  Without their allies, and after decades of war, what other choice was there?  Let those under your command die, or try to work out a deal that let them live on, unbothered.

Still, that wasn’t a perspective that needed to be shared now.  Instead, Shiro stepped back, letting Lance take charge of comforting Coran.  He’d do a better job anyway.

They couldn’t just stand here.  As much as Shiro wanted to give Coran a minute, they had to keep moving or risk catching someone’s notice.

Luckily, the next room offered a distraction.

“These are-” Coran’s eyes went side, leaning against the barriers that kept them from the devices in the room.  “These are the original communication devices!  The Kratokans used to keep track of every piece they manufactured.  I wonder if they still work.”

Pidge hummed thoughtfully.  “We could try.”

Pausing, Coran frowned.  “But the point of being disguised is to avoid suspicion.”

“It wouldn’t have to take long,” Hunk offered, voice quiet.  “I mean, logically we’re just some teenagers messing with an exhibit, right?”

This was the point Shiro should speaking up.  Coran was too attached to be objective and everyone wanted too badly to cheer him up to make the smart call.

But dammit, Shiro wanted that too.

“I’ll keep watch,” he offered, leaning against the door from the next room.  From this angle, he could see out and down the walkway to the next door.

Grinning, Pidge projected a screen and started to work on the barrier.  In less than five seconds it was down.

Coran seemed to waiver, but then he nodded.  “We’ll see if we can access any of the information on it, if we can even make them work.  Someone watch the clock and  we’ll  give up  after  fifteen minutes.”

Nodding, Keith dug out a small display.  “I’ve got you.”

With a flash of his usual, toothy grin, Coran dug into the back of one of the machines and started to hook it up to the wall.

Between Hunk, Pidge and Coran, they got it turned on in five minutes, and spent the rest of their time trying to download all the information possible off of it.

Shiro remained vigilant, mostly, but the place was empty.  He figured it was probably close to closing time, since the windows were getting darker.  So instead, he mostly ended up watching.

Until he heard a padding sound behind him.

Shiro froze and started to turn, just as a voice called to them.  “Who’s still down there?”

Finally looking down the hall they’d entered from, Shiro’s stomach froze to ice.

Standing at nearly nine feet tall, with a flat snout and bright yellow eyes, Shiro knew him.  Knew the superior tilt to his chin, knew the easy, arrogant confidence in his eyes, knew the finery of his clothes.

“Champion?” 


	2. The King

Shiro’s heart froze, and he took a nervous step back.  “I-”  He wanted to run or to scream, but his limbs were too heavy from shock and something that wasn’t quite a flashback, but wanted to be.

But the Kratokan stepped forward in longer strides, catching up with him almost immediately, until he was standing right in front of Shiro.

Then he clapped Shiro on the shoulder.  “You look well,” he boomed, no quieter despite no longer being across the room.  “I worried for you, after all that fuss of running away.”

Shiro’s brain stalled again, this time on the phrasing.  ‘All that fuss’, like Shiro had been up to some silly mischief when he’d escaped Galra imprisonment.  What the  _ hell? _

“It is nice to see you without that muzzle,” he continued on, shaking his head.  “What nonsense that was.  All that effort to come and speak with you and you could never reply?  Well, that’s not an issue now, is it?”

What the fuck was going on?

There was a crack, and Keith stepped forward, his bayard extended.  “Get away from him,” he snarled, voice low and ugly.

The Kratokan stared at the weapon, then eyed first Keith, then Shiro.  “Very rude.  I’m not sure I like your current companions.  At least the Galra respect an ally.”

“Not an ally,” Shiro murmured, barely hearing himself. He felt light-headed and he suspected he was pale.  It felt like there was no blood in his head, as if it had all flowed down to his feet and hands, and he was rooted in place.  “A patron.”

Nodding, the Kratokan puffed out his chest.  “Just so.  Even better!”  He eyed Keith again, then glanced around at the others.  “And- oh.  Oh!  You got them working?”  He pushed his way past Keith without a second glance and walked over to the old machines.  Pidge and Hunk both moved to step in front of Coran, their bayards out but not shifted.  But he paid them no mind, instead peering at the screen.  “You knew the encryption to get in?”

Coran cleared his throat.  “Yes. I was there during their development.”  But then he paused, frowning.  “You don’t?”

“Oh, no.  No one does, anymore.  There was a bit of a rebellion a few centuries ago.  Not particularly organized, as these things go.  But the ones who worked with these machines were among them and when they died, so did the knowledge.”  He shook his head.  “Very sad, isn’t it?  All the knowledge in here, in our hands but inaccessible.”

Lance crossed his arms.  “Okay, hold up.  Who the hell are you?”

The Kratokan straightened and looked down his snout at Lance.  Shaking his head, he huffed.  “I am King Maros.”  Then he scowled. “You passed my likeness on the way in.”

“We were a little distracted,” Pidge muttered.  “And we’re on a time crunch.”

Maros expression fell and he glanced around, seeming to notice their nerves for the first time.  “Well, you are not anymore,” he declared, as if it were that simple.  “We have much to speak about.  You are the Voltron crew, yes?  Then I think we have some mutual needs.”

Frowning, Hunk took a nervous step back.  “I’m not sure we should-”

“I think we have time to talk,” Shiro interrupted.  That earned him a round of startled looks and he plowed on despite it.  If this was a trap, they could deal with it, but this was the opening they’d been looking for.  

And Shiro owed Coran at least fifteen minutes of a chance, after the things he’d said last week.

“Wonderful,” Maros said, clapping his hands together.  The noise was muffled by the thick pads on his palms and the fur on his hands.  “Come with me.  There are much better places to talk.  And with better technology, of course!  These were supposed to hold nothing more interesting than trade logs, which is why they’re out here as an attraction.  Mere relics.  I have the real test for your skills in the administrative section.”

And without waiting for them, Maros started down the hall, with apparently all the confidence in the universe that they would follow.

But that wasn’t misplaced, because Shiro started after him, shoulders set.

Half-jogging over, Keith scowled after him.  “How do you know this guy?” he asked, the last words tripping with barely muffled contempt.

“I don’t know,” Shiro replied. “But it doesn’t matter.  This is what we’re here for.”

Keith looked dubious at that, but he did hook his bayard back up.  “And if this is a trap?”

Looking over his shoulder, Shiro nodded to Pidge, who pulled up the comm link in her wrist and started to update everyone in the castle.  “Then we blast our way out, same as if we’d been caught before.  But did we really do all this to get nervous when a chance rose up?”

“I didn’t think a chance would be with someone like him,” Lance muttered darkly.  Luckily, Maros didn’t seem to hear, still walking down the halls with a royal confidence.

Yeah, well, Shiro hadn’t thought so either.  But by now he knew better than to think the universe conformed to his expectations.

“We’ll just give it a few minutes.  See what this tech he’s talking about is.  And then we’ll make a call.”

Shiro hoped it was that simple.  

***

The room Maros took them to was full of consoles, lined up neatly along each of the walls.  From Coran’s suddenly caught breath, he probably recognized at least some of it.

Arms spread, Maros beamed at them all, pleased at the reactions.  “Please, do your best to work with these as well.  I think the information on them would be useful to you all.  Not only does it contain many of our former practices and methods, but the Galra had access to it for a great many years.  I’m sure you can find some use out of it.”

“Oh, I’m sure, too,” Pidge muttered, lips curling up and showing teeth. “Hmm, no power source here.  We can rig one up later, but for now... Shiro?”

Stepping over, Shiro placed his mechanical hand on the console.  It lit up and after a moment, so did the screen.  “Ah.  Glad that worked.”

“If they were set up to interface with Galra systems, it had to work with their power supplies,” Pidge replied distractedly.  “Now hold tight while we get in, alright?”

Shiro nodded and shifted his weight, prepared to stand still for at least ten or so minutes.  He knew from experience that shifting his palm too much would disrupt the connection and meant they’d have to start over.

While Coran, Pidge and Hunk worked, Lance seemed to decide to get some questions answered.

“So,” he drawled, and Shiro could see him leaning against the wall in the reflective metal decorations on the walls.  “What’s this patron thing?  Shiro doesn’t like to talk about it.”  He leaned forward conspiratorially, brows up.  “Not one for bragging, you know him.  But it just leaves us in suspense.”

Maros laughed, his whole furred chest heaving with it.  “Oh, yes, that is like him.”  And the familiarity made a shiver run through Shiro’s spine, his stomach turning.  “I supported him in the ring.  There were always little ways to pay to make life easier for the gladiators.  Better weapons, switching opponents, a night off.  Small boons to support him from afar. And I always got my returns in betting on him, didn’t I?”  He beamed, like it was all fun and games.  Like Shiro had taken part in some kind of organized fighting ring for his own enjoyment, rather than being a prisoner.

A memory flashed behind his eyes, of standing on a raised platform, his bangs still dark where they fell in front of his eyes.  A muzzle was strapped onto his face and Shiro glared at Maros, who stared back in uncaring curiosity.  Shiro was no threat to him.  If he so much as twitched in Maros’ direction, the guard next to him would kill him.

“Shiro,” Coran murmured.  “Deep breaths.”

Pausing, Shiro realized he’d started to dig his fingers into the console.  The metal warped under the strength of his fingers.

Coran was right.  Deep breaths.  In and out, just like he’d done before.

“Very helpful,” Lance managed, voice only slightly strangled.  “We all appreciate that you helped him and made sure he was treated better.”

Maros grinned, the expression surprisingly boyish, given that he looked like a fierce animal taught to stand on it’s hind legs and wear jewels.  “It was the least I could do for the Champion.”

“Alright,” Hunk interrupted, loud enough that Shiro jumped.  “Um, we’re in.”  When Shiro looked back at what they were doing, Coran had decrypted the console, and the information was starting to pull up.

Padding over, Maros watched with open joy, grinning.  “Wonderful!  I knew it.  This is perfect.  Exactly what we’ve needed.  I never cared for the Galra, you know.  Nasty group, if you think about it.  They have their uses, yes, but really this whole business they have, and the amount of control they want over  _ my _ kingdom, is absurd.  I’ve been trying to tell the council that for years, but they never wanted to risk anything.  Said their lives were fine, no need to worry, just buck up.  That no one survived a Galra rebellion.  As if we hadn’t had rebellions start and end several times before, honestly.  And there are people still alive, you may have noticed.”  Maros rolled his eyes.  “You’ll help me prove it to them. If even half the rumors I’ve heard about your exploits are true, you can help us.”

“We can,” Shiro replied, setting his shoulders and raising his jaw.  His voice audibly changed as well, slipping into the tone he used as the Black Paladin.  “That’s what we do.”

Maros smiled and nodded.  He reached up and patted Shiro’s chest, the gesture calm and just a touch condescending.  Shiro’s shoulders immediately tightened back up and he curled in on himself slightly, losing the composure he’d just gained.  “I know you can.  I always had a good eye, you know.  For the ones who would do well.  And this time I outdid myself.”  His lips curled up, clearly pleased.  

Behind Maros, Keith bared his teeth and looked like he wanted to cut off the hand that had touched Shiro.  Catching his eyes, Shiro gave him a stern look.  Stand.  Down.

Keith took a step back, but he still glared darkly at Maros’ back.

“That is what we do,” Coran added, though he sounded less sure of that than normal.  He kept glancing over at Shiro, trying to catch his eyes, but Shiro refused to meet his gaze.

Nodding, Maros smiled.  “Perfect. When you’re finished with this, I’ll have Osaha bring you to a room you can stay in.  For now, we’ll keep you on the downlow, until we can start working on the members of the council.  No need to cause a panic and alert anyone unnecessarily, after all.” He shook his head.  “All of them, so short sighted and petty.  But we’ll turn them around, don’t you worry.  I know how to speak their little language.  And there’s more of you, right?”  He squinted, head tilted.  “There was a princess.  None of you look like a Princess.”

This time, Shiro did catch Coran’s eyes, tilting his head in question.  Did they want to risk getting Allura here?  She would come if they asked her to, and she was probably the best for negotiating.  Because Maros clearly got some kind of benefit of it.

But at the same time, he was nervous to have her deep in enemy territory again.  And if he felt that way, how much Coran feel?

But Coran just gave a nod.  “None of us are princesses, that’s correct.  She’s still aboard our ship and cloaked.  Is there a few place we can land?”

“Certainly,” Maros replied, nodding.  “I’ll show you the coordinates.  In the meantime...”  He tapped on a wide, metal band on his wrist that Shiro had thought was just a decorative bracelet.  “Osaha, I need you to show some guests around.  Use the backways, please.”

A moment later, another Kratokan stepped into the room.  Rather the long, braided fur that Maros sported, this one instead sported a tight buzzcut.  They stood several inches taller and were significantly bulkier.  “These are the ones, Your Highness?”

“Correct,” Maros replied.  “Show them to a nice, out of the way guest suite for now.  And treat them with the utmost respect.  You remember the Champion, from the gladiator rings.”

Osaha eyed Shiro, the look distinctly unfriendly.  “I do.”

“Wonderful.  Osaha is my personal bodyguard. She’ll treat you well.”  Maros clapped his hands together.  “Now, if you’ll come with me... I don’t believe I ever caught your name.”

Coran gave a thin smile.  “Coran,” he replied and Shiro noticed the distinct lack of any kind of title or address.  

Luckily, Maros didn’t.

Catching Lance’s eye, Shiro nodded to him.  Lance straightened and nodded, than followed Coran.  It was a bad idea for any of them to be alone on this planet, if they could help it.  And Lance’s bayard would mean he could hold off any attack for at least a couple of minutes.  

“This way,” Osaha said to them then turned on her furry heel and stalked out.  She had none of the finery Maros had and walked at a much faster clip, so it was harder to follow her.  But luckily it seemed the guest rooms were nearby.

Shiro bit his lip and reviewed the paths they’d taken to get here, hoping he remembered enough to keep from getting lost if they needed to get out quickly.

“Thank you,” he told Osaha, as neutrally as he could.

He got a bland, unhappy look in return.  “I suggest you make your business short.  It does no one any good for you to be here.”

And with that welcome, Osaha stalked right back out, closing the door behind her.

Well, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, because I want Spectrum done before the end of the S2 premiere, Beast will now be updated twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays. I'm assuming no one is going to complain about that.


	3. The Plan

“Pidge,” Shiro called, brows up.

Nodding, Pidge pulled out her pad from her bag.  “On it.”  Holding it up, she activated a program and did a sweep of the room, looking for any bugs.

“Shiro,” Keith muttered, voice raw.  “Who the hell is that guy?”

Shiro sighed and scrubbed over his face.  “I don’t remember much,” he admitted.  “I didn’t remember anything until we were on the planet and even then just a sense of deja-vu.”  The room was large, filled with chairs that looked likey they were made for discussing while lounging.  Shiro sat in one heavily, massaging his temples.  “It’s... give me a moment.”

“He said he was a patron,” Hunk murmured softly.  “And what he said to Lance...  He _helped?”_ And it would have taken a significant effort to make the word ‘help’ sound more sarcastic.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro nodded.  “He thinks he did, yes.  Maros...I never knew his name, but we met.  If you won enough, you started to get consistent bets on you.  The Galra turned that into an industry.  I would get trotted out to... meetings where patrons would want to see the fighters and decide who to support.  They could buy things like better food or improving your room, but basically no one did that, except in the very lowest range.  Most beings liked to give upgraded weapons or switch out opponents.”

Silence filled the room, painfully heavy.  “No listening devices,” Pidge reported quietly.  She sat down in the seat across from Shiro.  “We shouldn’t stay.  Fuck this guy and his rebellion.  It’s not worth it if there’s not already a bunch of people who want to leave.”

Shiro jolted up, eyes wide.  “No!”  Then, realizing how loud he’d been, Shiro frowned.  “No.  You heard Coran and Allura.  They could be important.”

“Nothing is that important!” Keith shot back, leaning forward.  “Nothing we can get from these people is worth making you stay in the room with someone who paid to make you fight for his amusement.  Right?”  He turned to face Pidge and Hunk, fists clenched at his side.

Hunk nodded.  “Right.  Absolutely.  I say we leave right now.  We took what we wanted and we’re going to go.”

Shiro’s stomach went icy and he shook his head.  “No.   _No,_ we will not.”  He stood up, suddenly charged with an energy he couldn’t name.  “We’re not leaving until we get everything we can out of this.  Not because of Maros.”

Eyes bright behind her glasses, Pidge scowled.  “Not because of you, you mean.”

“It’s more than that,” Shiro reminded them, voice rough.  “It’s bigger than what happened to me.  This is...Maros has resources to throw around.  Access to the Galra empire, the ears of the elite.  We can do so much with that.  Everything we do is with the resources of the castle and the lions.  We’re limited.  We’re _small_.  We can’t trust Maros but we can use him for even just a little while.  We can get the word out.  Hell, he can let other planets know that Voltron is real and winning.  What would that do?  We can’t go to every planet the Galra have overtaken in the past 10,000 years but we can let them know there’s a reason to fight.”

The other three stared at him, expressions shuttered.  “But you said it yourself.  We can’t trust him to do anything.  He’s...”  Keith trailed off, shaking his head.

Self-serving.  Arrogant.  Kind of an idiot.

None of that mattered.

“Even if we stay here just a couple of days,” Shiro said,  “we can get the information off those old devices.  We can have that knowledge and spread it.  We can force Maros to give concessions to us in exchange for the stupid things he wants.”  Shiro spread his arms.  “All he wants is what we have.  Knowledge and...”

“And you,” Hunk finished quietly.  “It’s that second part we don’t agree with.”

Shiro shook his head almost violently.  “Who cares?  So he wants me to pat him on the back for a little while.  That’s so little to pay for the resources we can get in return.”

Standing abruptly, Pidge stared at him.  Then she shook her head.  “We don’t really know what he wants.  Not yet.  How can -?”

“I can’t leave,” Shiro replied softly.  It wasn’t an answer to what she was saying, but it was an answer to what she was getting at.  “I won’t.  I’m not going to give this up because of...because of my baggage.  If you leave, I’m still staying.”

Shiro refused.  He wouldn’t allow this to fold because he was fucked up.  He wouldn’t let down Allura and Coran like that, he wouldn’t let down the people who could be helped like that and he wouldn’t let something else be broken because of him.

And if that meant putting up with Maros’ posturing and babbling for a few hours, Shiro would do it.

“Okay,” Hunk replied, nodding.

Pidge whirled on him, teeth bared.  “Okay?”

Meeting her eyes, Hunk’s brows jumped up.  “Yeah.  Okay.  If Shiro’s staying, so are we.  Duh.”

Letting out a shaky breath, Keith scowled.  “Promise me you’ll get out if it gets too bad.”

“I won’t promise anything,” Shiro replied.  “If it’s not worth it, we’ll leave.  Simple as that.  We’re not staying long anyway.  Maros doesn’t want the Galra down on his head, not really.  He’ll figure that out as soon as it feels real.”

“I don’t believe you,” Pidge grumbled, arms crossed.  “I don’t want you here.”  She shared a quick look with Keith and something seemed to pass between them.

Shiro frowned, brow furrowed as he tried to figure out exactly what they were both thinking.  He came up empty.  He glanced at Hunk, wondering if he was just as confused, but he wouldn’t meet Shiro’s gaze.

...Huh.

Well, that was something Shiro could tackle after all of this.  He had enough on his plate right now.

“I want a veto,” Keith said.  “When we all agree it’s too far, you go back.”

Shiro’s brows rose.  “I’m not familiar with that part of the chain of command.”

Keith bared his teeth.  “You only ever bring that up when you can’t justify your orders.”

“I only have to when you disobey,” Shiro disagreed.  “It’s usually not the time.  Will you please just trust me?  I can handle it.  It’s just a couple of days and it’s not like I’m back in captivity.  Let me do this without having to fight you too.”

Hunk held up his hands.  “Guys.  Come on.  We’re not getting anywhere.  Shiro, just... think about it.  If we’re all vetoing, it probably means something.  Promise you’ll consider it?  Not that you’ll listen without question, just that you’ll give it real thought.”

Staying on this planet was such a small price to pay.

Making that promise was an even smaller one.  

Especially since Shiro had a tendency to break promises like this without a second thought.

“Agreed,” he replied, straightening up and setting his shoulders.  “If you’ll agree that you won’t fight me on this at every turn.  There’ll be enough problems going on between hiding out and dealing with Maros.  We don’t need to borrow trouble.”

Keith and Pidge shared another look.  Then Pidge nodded.  “I can live with that.”

“Same,” Keith replied.

Nodding, Shiro sat back down.  “Good.”

He wondered if they intended to keep their promises anymore than he did.  

Only time would tell.

***  
And hour and a half later, Coran and Lance returned with Allura and the rest of the Holts in tow.  It took longer than Shiro had thought, but then he realized they’d probably brought the blue lion back to the castle.

“We’re going to need a bigger room,” Shiro noted absently, leaning his head back on the couch.  He cracked his eyes open and flashed a small smile in greeting, but otherwise didn’t react.  He felt like he was trying to conserve his emotions, like he had only so much in him for the day, and he couldn’t afford to run out before that evening.

Matt sat down on the couch next to Shiro, hard enough that he bounced slightly.  “So,” he said.  “What’s the plan?  Do we have a plan?”

“Our plan is to make a plan later, once we’ve spoken with Maros more,” Allura replied.  “At this point, we have very little idea of what he wants, outside of access to that technology.  I doubt this is for the Galra’s benefit at least.  Unless it’s just to keep us around for longer, but they should already have that information, if it was lost more recently.  They don’t need it.”

“What do _we_ need from those machines?” Lance asked.  “Like, it’s all well and good to have it.  I get that it’s cool stuff or at least it was.  But we’re not going to be mining from this planet, so what’s the point of knowing how they did it?”

“It’s about resource flow,” Shiro answered, still without looking up.

Coran hummed.  “Right.  Maybe we can’t use that information yet, but the Galra certainly did.  We can see what they did with it.  That, and it’s all still connected.  Those machines have access to the Galran databanks, from what I was able to see.  Mind, it’s a slow connection, and we’ll have to be sparring with it to avoid detection.  But we can get into the current files as long as we have access.”

The room went quiet.  “How much access?” Sam asked slowly.  Picking his head up, Shiro finally opened his eyes and looked properly.

“Well, I didn’t get in for long,” Coran replied.  “But since these materials would have been used for high grade projects and from what I saw... it’s outdated, but it seemed to have high clearance levels.”

Matt shook his head.  “Wait.  So hundreds of years go by and no one thinks to change the password?”

“I can’t be sure,” Coran repeated.  “That’s just what I saw.  Seems like the system works off a security check rather than any sort of direct user input.  Or, who knows?  Maybe it’s data that’s common knowledge to the Galra and news to us and it just looks like something secret.”

Allura nodded slowly.  “That’s to be priority one, then.  Everything else is a stall to give you as much time and access you need to look through that information.”

Letting out a long breath, Hunk nodded.  “We can do that.”

“Matt and Sam will help you,” Allura continued.  “And whoever else you think will help.”

Sam tapped his cane thoughtfully.  “I’d like to stay with the negotiations for now, if I may.  I have some experience working with very different species, after all.  And Matt and I have a better working knowledge of what it’s like to live under the Galra.  Besides, Matt knows everything I do.  Unless you literally need another set of hands, you don’t need both of us.”

He said that, but Sam was watching Shiro from the corner of his eye.  And by now, Shiro recognized when Sam was trying to get at something from the side.

Well, as long as he wasn’t going to try and stop Shiro either.  Because Shiro had been determined before, and now that he knew about this he wasn’t budging.

“As long as we can keep Maros entertained, he’s not going to push,” Shiro reported.  “I don’t remember a lot about him but I know that.”

Allura eyed him, lips thin.  “We don’t want to give him everything he wants at once.  The best thing we can do is drip feed him.  It’ll keep him wanting longer.”

Fingers digging into the fabric of the couch, Shiro fought off a scowl.  Allura was right.  That was the smarter call.

But it felt like it was to cover for him and Shiro didn’t want that.  

“Right,” he agreed, voice tense.

Pidge’s eyes flashed and she shifted closer to Keith, but didn’t say anything.  But she managed to make that silence pointed.

Shiro just really didn’t have time to deal with that right now, so he closed his eyes and leaned back again.

He just had to get through this.

He would.  And he’d prove he could to everyone.  Including himself.

***

About half an hour later, there was a knock on the door.  Shiro opened one eye to watch as Hunk popped up and opened it, one hand reaching for the bayard that wasn’t there.  They’d brought the armor into the castle with the rest of their things, but it was too conspicuous to wear.

Shiro missed it honestly.  He always felt a little more in the moment when he was wearing the Black Paladin armor.  But it wasn’t worth alerting the Galra for.

Osaha stood there, eyeing them all with ill concealed contempt.  She especially pinned Shiro with an unhappy look and he wondered what he’d done to bother her.

Then again, she had to deal with Maros.  If Shiro had to listen to him talk about the Champion for the past year and change, Shiro might want to kill someone as well.

“You are requested for dinner,” Osaha told them, her rumble of a voice nearly deadpan.  “He wishes to speak with you about the next several days.”

Allura nodded to her, neutral but jerky.  Her face was too blank to be properly polite but Osaha didn’t seem to notice or care.  “Thank you.  Are you going to lead the way?”  That earned them a tiny nod and Shiro got the distinct feeling Osaha would rather be doing anything else.

Yeah, well, Shiro knew the feeling.

With a groan, he straightened and stood, rolling his shoulders and neck to loosen them.  The group of them were... noticeable, but luckily there didn’t seem to be anyone in this section of the castle.  It helped that Shiro hadn’t seen any kind of workers so far, outside of what seemed like museum employees.

“This way,” Osaha told them and then stalked out the room.  By now, they were all more used to the abrupt way they were led around, so they could follow more easily.  No one dared to talk above a whisper, not willing to attract attention, and Shiro just kept his mouth shut.

After dinner, he was going to try and sneak away to an empty room for a little while.  It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do but it would give Shiro time to get his head on straight and not screw this up.

Osaha opened a wide door and stepped aside, gesturing for them to go in first.  Brow furrowed, Shiro frowned as he looked inside.  That didn’t look like a dining hall.  It went into some kind of courtyard with odd seating, it seemed like.

Unfortunately, he was right.

“I thought you wanted to have dinner?” Lance asked, shoulders tense and eyes bright.  “What’s all this?”  He looked around, taking in the stadium seating, which lead down to a wide, dirt area.  Lights flooded the space, brightly lighting the bottom and casting shadows from the four pillars, proudly jutting up to nothing but open sky.

Lance clearly didn’t know what he was looking at.

But Shiro did.

He wished he didn’t.

Maros beamed at them, throwing his hands wide.  It made the draped robe he’d changed into flare out, casting a huge shadow over the space at the bottom.  “Oh, we’ll be eating.  I’ll have our food brought here.  But we have this space and we’ve rarely had the occasion to use it.  I thought there was no reason we couldn’t enjoy food and a show.  Entertainment is a staple of a good meal, after all!”

Oh no.  Shiro’s brain seemed to be shorting, in a new and terrifying way.  He glanced around, trying to find some scrap of evidence that what he was seeing wasn’t what he thought it was.

But then his eyes fell on Matt.  His brown eyes were wide and his posture was far too stiff.  One foot was leaning back, like he was about to turn and run from the room.

And worse, he was watching Shiro with open horror.

“That is,” Maros continued, oblivious to everything around him. “If the Champion wouldn’t mind being the star?  I think Osaha would be a worthwhile opponent for you, don’t you think?  It’d be splendid!”

This was a ring.  A personal gladiator arena.

“Will you fight, Champion?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Sunday~
> 
> : )


	4. The Arena

“No,” Keith snapped instantly, hands curled in a way that looked like he wanted to claw Maros’ face off.  “Not happening.”

Allura nodded her agreement, eyes icy.  “I don’t think it’s fair to ask Shiro to perform something like this for our entertainment.  He is a guest and he should not have to do provide the show for you.”

Brow furrowed, Maros drew himself up.  “I don’t believe it’s either of your decisions,” he told them, voice more like a growl than human speech.  “If the Champion wishes to fight, this is an opportunity.  And there’s no reason we shouldn’t enjoy.”  He meet Shiro’s eyes, his expression completely confident that Shiro would agree to go along with this.  

Anything else would hurt his opinion of the Champion.  And if that happened, they’d have one less thing over Maros.  That was their greatest negotiations advantage, right now.  They couldn’t afford to lose it.

Which meant there was only one answer.  “I’ll fight.”

“N-” Hunk was cut off by Coran’s hand on his shoulder.  He shot him a betrayed look, but Coran shook his head and glanced at Maros.

They needed to show a unified front.  Even if Coran’s expression was tight around the eyes, and the look he was giving was too sharp.

“Are you sure about this?” Sam asked Shiro, voice quiet.  His eyes were piercing behind his glasses, and his knuckles were white around the handle of his cane.

Swallowing hard, Shiro nodded and mirrored his tone.  “Yes.  It’s the best option.  It’s just a show match; basically sparring.”

“No, it’s not,” Pidge disagreed, barely audible.

Shiro shrugged.  He had told a lie, but it was a nice one.

He wished they wouldn’t be here to watch.  None of them would like it and it would actively hurt them.  Every single one of them was watching him like he was marching to his own death.

Hell, Shiro would have fought that, but it was probably better than the truth.  

He wouldn’t be walking to his own death.  Shiro was undefeated.  He’d be marching down to be someone’s executioner.  

But not today.  It was a show match.  No one was going to die.  He’d be okay.  He’d  _ be okay. _

“Are you ready, Champion?” Maros asked.  He shot a smug look at the others, clearly pleased he’d been right, then locked his gaze on Shiro.  He looked nothing short of giddy, like a little boy.  

Shiro took a deep breath, then glanced at Osaha.  She eyed him back, gaze shuttered, but her hands clenched into tight fists by her side.

“I’m ready,” Shiro replied.  Then he started to walk down the stairs.  Looking back over his shoulder, he gave them a nod.

He was alright.  He’d done this dozens of times. At least. He’d survive one more.

Locking eyes with Matt, he mouthed ‘don’t watch’.

Then he walked into the arena.

Down here, the lights were so bright that Shiro couldn’t see more than the occasional vague, dark shape of someone moving in front of the spotlights.  Which actually helped.  It was better, when he didn’t have to feel their gazes on him.

“You should not have stayed,” Osaha told him flatly, as she took her place opposite him.

Shiro only shrugged.  “It wasn’t my call.”

Judging by Osaha’s sneer, that wasn’t an answer she accepted.

Well, tough for her.  It was the answer she was getting.  And it was Maros’ fault they were here, not Shiro’s, so she could be pissy at her king instead.

Except that Shiro was the one who had to battle, so he was going to bear the brunt of it no matter what.

Well, he’d faced angrier opponents.  Meaner ones, too.

“Fighters ready!” Maros’ voice called, distorted in some kind of microphone, and Shiro turned to face Osaha, his own posture loose.  She was coiled, lips pulled back to show her fangs.

And Shiro’s mind narrowed and the world went quiet.

The buzz cut would make it harder for him to latch on anywhere and her reach was better.  He’d need to keep his attacks low, go for the vulnerable stomach.  Her legs were exposed but covered in thick fur, but while she was fast, she wasn’t necessarily agile.  She was weaponless, aside from her claws, limited range.  Predator facial build, meaning her range of sight was limited to what was directly in front of her.  The tail had no defenses and was an easy grabbing point.

But Osaha was bigger and probably stronger.

Then again, that had never stopped him before, had it?

“Begin!”

No cheers, but Shiro didn’t need them.  Neither did Osaha, who immediately launched herself toward him, hands extended and claws out.

Shiro side-stepped, letting her pounce pass.  The air around him whipped from the force and speed of her, and Shiro bent at the knees just a touch, lowering his sense of gravity.  It would making his dodging faster.

Rather than stumble, she landed on all fours, tail lashing.  But she pivoted faster than he thought possible, ears twisted back and muzzle crinkled like a snarling dog.  Without getting up, she bolted toward him on all fours, kicking up dust.

Shiro tried to jump out of the way, but one claw caught his thigh.  It was a glancing blow, doing little more than scratching, but the momentum of it knocked Shiro off balance.  He hit the ground hard, twisting through the dirt.  

Distantly, he heard shouting but it didn’t stand out.  Of course there was shouting.  There was always chanting. 

_ “Veprit Sa.  Veprit Sa.” _

_ The crowd howled and bayed, calling out for players and for blood. _

_ Mostly blood. _

Shiro put his metal hand to the ground, using that as a pivot point to turn the tumble into a controlled spin.  He got his feet under him in time to twist out of the way of a second swipe.  His opponent overstretched herself, eager to take advantage of his vulnerability, and Shiro could put all his weight on his arm and kick out.  The toe of his boot hit one furry ear and she went down with a roar, covering the spot as her world tilted.

Or, well, Shiro assumed.  Who knew alien physiology enough to say?  But it had served him well enough in the arena before.  It seemed to work here.

Climbing to his feet, Shiro took a moment to assess the damage to his thigh.  Blood dripped through the ripped tatter of his pants, but it wasn’t a deep wound and his leg took his weight without problem.  Besides, the dark color hid how much he was bleeding so he didn’t have to worry about the appearance.

Looking like a wounded animal was a good way to become a dead one.  No need to advertise any injuries.

That settled, Shiro stepped toward his opponent, eyes narrowed.  His arm flared to life as he cooly contemplated the best blow to end the fight without killing.  Slicing open a leg should do it, though it would leave her wounded for several weeks without healing.

Wait.  That was wrong.  He wasn’t supposed to do that.  But why?

Shiro paused as his brain stuttered and paused, caught between two contradicting thoughts.  

But the blow hadn’t kept Osaha incapacitated and she tensed up suddenly, then launched at him.  Shiro’s couldn’t react in time, frozen by two mentalities warring in his head, and he went  _ down _ .

She was heavy and Shiro took the full brunt of the fall on his back.  Crying out, he tried to buck, starting with a kick up and yanking his whole body with it.  It was a move that had often gotten him out of a pin, just from the surprise of it.  But he just jerked to a sudden, painful halt when he couldn’t shift her weight enough to free himself.

One huge hand slammed down on his metal arm, pinning it right below the elbow.  Damn.  It heated up there, but not enough to burn someone covered in that much fur.  It sizzled, and the smell was disgusting, but she had time before it hurt too badly to hold.

She didn’t need time.  She needed one clean blow.

But Osaha made the same mistake so many others had.  She underestimated the human side and assumed the Galran parts were the most dangerous.

Gritting his teeth, Shiro reached behind her and grabbed onto the fur of her tail.  Then he yanked with all his might.

She  _ yowled,  _ an ear-splittingly howl in Shiro’s face.  While his head throbbed with the pain, her other hand came down regardless, claws extended.  She was aiming for his face, but another yank made her flinch.

So instead, the hand came down on Shiro’s shoulder and cut down across his chest.  It sliced through the shirt and vest as though they had been made of paper the whole time and gouged into his chest, leaving painful furrows in it’s wake.

But it wasn’t a killing blow, like she’d tried.

(Why a killing blow?  That wasn’t how this was supposed to happen.)

(What?  There were no other blows in this place.  It was kill or die, unless you wished to suffer what the guards would do to you.  Unless you were the Champion and they couldn’t afford to kill you.)

(He was the  _ Champion. _  He was not going to lose to her.  Shiro was  _ not  _ going to die in one of these arenas.)

Crying out, Shiro jerked his shoulders as hard as he could.  His chest screamed at the sudden movement and the muscles strained from the weight of her.  But while she was still off balance, it did it’s job.  Osaha’s weight was pushed to the side and her grip on his arm faltered, just enough.

Shiro couldn’t pull it away.  But he didn’t need to.  He just yanked up, until her hand was over his wrist.

While it was still active.

Osaha screamed, pulling her hand back.  But it was already blackened on the edges, and Shiro could see the raw, red wound.  No blood, though.  The heat of it had cauterized it.

Well, Shiro wouldn’t win this from blood loss.

Pulling his legs up to his chest, Shiro aimed, then lashed out, hitting her dead on the side of the muzzle.

She went down in a heap.

Shiro stood up slowly, expression blank.  Then he walked over and pressed his boot to her throat, hard enough to cut off the air.  When she tried to grab at him, claws extended, he held his arm toward her threateningly.  

Osaha might take the chance anyway, attempt to do enough damage before he could hit down that she could overpower him.

Others had tried that.  No one had managed yet.

Instead, she snarled, a low, blood-thirsty noise.  But then she dropped her hands and looked away, neck exposed.

Concession.

“We have a victor!” A voice announced, echoing loudly through the arena.

Good.  Shiro waited, foot still on her throat.  It wasn’t until she started to squirm from lack of air that he pulled back.  Hopefully now she wouldn’t be stupid enough to go for his back.

His shirt and vest were hanging by tatters, mostly where they were tucked into his pants.  So he ripped them off and rolled his shoulders.  They were just a hinderance now.  Then he stared up, chin up and gaze cool, prepared for any sick twist the Galra wanted.

But there were no cheers, no bet announcements.

And suddenly Shiro remembered where he was.

Closing his eyes, Shiro mentally reviewed his behavior of the last few minutes.  

Shit.  Stepping on someone’s throat wasn’t something he’d wanted them to see him doing.  And just his attitude, the way he moved, the way he  _ thought. _

He’d acted like... well, like the Champion.  Shiro wasn’t sure if they could tell the difference.

But he could.  And the fact that they’d seen made his skin crawl.

Steeling himself, Shiro took a deep breath.  Then he walked back up the stairs to rejoin everyone.

But he kept his gaze on his feet, not wanting to know what he’d see in their eyes.


	5. The Results

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge ponders.

As Shiro trudged up the steps, shoulders stiff and posture steel-rod perfect, Pidge took a moment to collect herself.

It hadn’t been a surprise, not really.  She and Keith had watched hours of footage of Shiro in the arena.  They’d poured over the details, absorbing every second in an effort to understand.

Back then, they’d said it was for Shiro’s benefit or for Pidge’s family.  They’d sworn up and down it was for a righteous cause, and Pidge had even believed it.

But not one thing had ever come in handy.  They hadn’t been prepared for any single moment that Shiro froze.

Because it would never have helped. 

In the end, Lance and Hunk had been right.  It had just been about watching.  About knowing.  It hadn’t been for anyone but themselves.

And that had never hit her more when they saw Shiro fight in person.

The reality of the fights had never really struck home until Pidge watched Shiro - their calm leader, the one who always at least tried to do the best thing, even when the situation got away from them - hold his boot down on someone’s throat and  _ watched. _

They had never understood anything.  She and Keith hadn’t even tried, not truly. 

And as Shiro walked back up to them, gaze shadowed and eyes on his feet, Pidge found she could feel something around the fury and horror.  She could feel ashamed, too.

“Well done, Champion!” Maros congratulated heartily.  But he wasn’t looking at Shiro, instead watching as Osaha picked herself back up.  She was cradling the hand she’d pinned Shiro’s arm with and her balance seemed to be off.  When Osaha glanced up toward them, Maros nodded, and she stumbled off out another door, probably to seek medical attention.

Pidge hoped she’d never come back.  It had been obvious to anyone with half a brain that she hadn’t been fighting to concession.  Osaha had been aiming to hurt, if not kill.

Nodding, the motion jerky, Shiro’s lips twisted up into what was supposed to resemble a smile.  “Thank you.  It’s been awhile.”

Maros shook his head.  “Such a shame.  I understand you must be busy with your quests, but that’s no reason to let your talents go to waste.  It’s what you were born for, Champion.”

Shoulders visibly tightening, Shiro’s parody smile didn’t falter.  “You’re not the first to think so.”

He still hadn’t looked at any of them.

Pidge was guiltily thankful.  She wasn’t sure what he’d seen in her face right now.  It felt like if they made eye contact, Shiro would realize she wasn’t surprised.  That he’d somehow know she and Keith had watched all those videos and hid it from him.

Evening imagining the look on Shiro’s face when he learned that made her feel sick.

Well, more sick.

“Come, sit,” Maros invited.  “You must be hungry after such a display.”

Dad cleared his throat.  “With all due respect, I think Shiro might be more comfortable at the meal if he was seen to.”  His eyes were on Shiro’s chest, running along the new, still bleeding claw marks.  But Pidge thought he was also looking at the network of scars that ran along Shiro’s chest.

It had been months since any of the paladins had seen those, as far as Pidge knew.  Last time, he’d only been wearing that towel, so they’d all been carefully avoiding staring.

But her Dad and Matt hadn’t ever seen it.  And it was a  _ sight. _  The criss-crossed network of gnarled skin twisted over Shiro’s torso, and each one told a horrifying story.

Pidge’s stomach turned as she recalled how many of those stories she’d watched.

Glancing at her brother, she looked over his face, worried.  Pidge knew he tended have moments where he wasn’t really there.

Matt seemed to be aware, or at least she hoped.  Considering he’d never actually seen the ring of an arena, maybe that wasn’t one of the things that set him off.

Instead he was watching Shiro, eyes wide and red-rimmed.  He looked painfully guilty.

Reaching over, Pidge put her hand on Matt’s, squeezing.  A second later, he laced their fingers together and held on.

The gesture was mostly to comfort Matt, but it made Pidge feel a little better too.

“I’m fine,” Shiro replied, very nearly in his usual tone.  He sat down at the seat remaining, between her father and Hunk.  “As long as no one minds.”

“Are you sure?” Hunk asked, voice shaking.

At the same time, Keith sighed.  “Shiro...”

Straightening so suddenly he seemed to grow a couple of inches, Shiro’s gaze hardened.  “I’m fine.”

This time, it was a coded order.

_ Drop it. _

Right.  Maros.  Except who gave a  _ fuck _ about Maros?  Pidge would happily see him ejected into open space.

Pidge looked to Allura. She was the only one who had enough authority to override Shiro.  Not that she usually used it, but Shiro wasn’t usually being an  _ idiot. _

But Allura seemed to go along with it, even if she clearly wasn’t happy.  It was a good thing Maros was too arrogant to see past the end of his muzzle, because otherwise it’d be all too obvious he wasn’t making any friends.  

“As long as you let yourself be seen right after,” Allura allowed, and there was steel to her voice.

She probably hoped Shiro would actually obey if she compromised.  Pidge hoped she was right.

Lance watched Shiro for a moment, then turned to Maros, suddenly wearing an easy smile.  If it hadn’t been for the ice in his eyes, Pidge might have been fooled.  “So, Your Highness, we’re really out of date about how your run things here.  I’m sure you know best, so you mind giving me a rundown?”

Chin raising proudly, Maros nodded.  “Oh, yes.  Good idea.  You’re right that you should be aware of the systems here.  After all, that will be the best way for you to avoid unneeded detection.  Let’s see... perhaps we’ll begin with the council.”  With that Maros launched into a lengthy monologue about the governmental body of Kratok.

Which was useful.  Really, it was.  Pidge should be paying more attention than what she was.

But the sound of Maros’ voice sent furious shivers up her spine and she just  _ couldn’t. _  It was all she could do to hold onto her temper at this point.

Allura nodded to Lance, though, eyes contemplative as she looked him over.  It had been a smart move, because it was a topic they needed to understand and it wasn’t ‘Champion’ this or ‘arena’ that.  She and Coran kept up the conversation as well, asking questions that were familiar enough with the planet to be intelligent and keep Maros distracted.

Through it all, Shiro didn’t look up.  He was still eating mechanically.

Glancing across the table, Pidge caught Keith’s eyes, biting her bottom lip.  He didn’t show any sign of anxiety, but he nodded back, gaze shuttered.

At least he was feeling shitty too.  Pidge wasn’t glad for it, but she was glad someone understood.

Hunk shifted closer to Shiro, then started to murmur, barely loud enough for Pidge to hear.  Thankfully, the conversation with Maros was loud enough to make sure the other side of the table didn’t catch it.  “Do you want me to talk to you or do you want to be left alone?”

For a moment, Shiro didn’t respond, and it looked like he might completely ignore Hunk.  Then he sighed.  “I’m not going to be a great conversationalist right now.”

“Talk at you, then,” Hunk amended.  “You don’t have to say anything.”

Shiro finally looked up, meeting Hunk’s gaze.  He stilled and Pidge thought he might be hiding a flinch.  But he relaxed under the gentle gaze, more than he had since the fight.

He’d been scared.  He’d been scared how they’d react.  Because Shiro hated them seeing him as anything other than competent and capable.

Pidge’s chest clenched harder.

Giving a tiny smile, one that actually looked real, Shiro nodded.  “That’d help, actually.  Tell me again what you found on those machines?”

When Hunk started to talk, voice steady and soothing like when they examined the metal arm, Shiro glanced sideways at Dad.  Something in the tilt of his head was oddly vulnerable, especially compared to the robotic way he’d been holding himself.

Dad gave him a smile and nodded.  The corners of his eyes were tight and his grip on his cane was white knuckled, but the look he gave Shiro was approving.

Returning the smile, just as fragile, Shiro nodded and turned back to Hunk.  Even if he wasn’t responding yet, he looked engaged.

That was probably the best they were going to get for now.

It was more than Pidge could do, anyway.  But that was why they had a team.  No one person had to be everything.

And Pidge had the terrible feeling that by the end of this, everyone would have their burdens to bear.

*****

Later, while Shiro was getting patched up (with Dad firmly shadowing him and no amount of eyeing from Maros had stopped him), they were allowed at the machines again.  

It was going to be a late night.  The best time to work was when the least people would be around.  The best way to be sure of that was to be out when everyone else was asleep.

That didn’t bother Pidge much, honestly.  She was a natural night owl.  But the castle was creepy at night, full of echoing halls and strange decorations that looked like waiting figures at the wrong angle.  The whole place rubbed her the wrong way.

Or she was projecting on it, since she hated the inhabitants so much.  One or the other.

“Um,” Hunk murmured, hunching over his console.  “Okay, slight problem.  Has anyone seen one of these screens before?”

Coming up behind him, Coran hummed.  “Ah.  Looks like some sort of authentication page.  That’s unfortunate.  I’ve no doubt we can get around it, but...”

But finding or creating backdoors into systems took time.  Time none of them wanted to spend, because it meant staying here longer.  It meant leaving Shiro to deal with Maros.

“Lemme see,” Matt murmured, glancing over Hunk’s other side.  “Oh, yeah.  These are pretty common.  Keeps the riff-raff out.  I might be able to get us in, depending on how tight security is.”  When the rest of them glanced at Matt, he shrugged.  “I had to use the general computers once in awhile at the camp for updates to the machinery.  So I at least have a passing knowledge.  I’ll just...” he reached around Hunk and something into the data fields.  A moment later, it flashed red and the fields emptied again.  “Eugh.  Okay, this might take a bit.”

“We’ll work on it,” Pidge replied.  “Assuming the accesses are similar on all planets - and considering how many different systems that would be, I’m going to guess they are - we should be able to reverse engineer something tonight.”

Matt nodded, though his lips were thin.  “Yeah.  I’ll get started on it.”  Then he switched places with Hunk, muttering darkly to himself, shoulders tense and gaze bright.  Pidge had the feeling he was going to be taking out his aggression on the coding of the console.

It would have been nice if Pidge knew what to say here.  If she had some magical words ripped straight from a corny novel, that made everyone feel like things were going to be okay, she’d say them.  She wanted to do what Shiro usually could.

But Shiro wasn’t here and even if he was, he probably didn’t have much to say.  The rest of them were just scrambling hard to keep up.

Coran stepped over to help Matt as they broke through the user interface to access the coding direction.  With them busy tackling that problem, Pidge went back to prying open one of the other machines.

They’d determined that, in actuality, there were about four of these consoles.  Each one, according to Coran, had been for following a different job. Some of them were for trade, others were for current projects, yadda yadda.  What that meant was, of the 10 or so, there was at least one duplicate of everything.

So anything not online wasn’t going to access the Galra systems, which was still priority one.  But Pidge could at least tear some of these things up and download any information saved on their hard drive.  It would be older, that was for sure, and wouldn’t contain the link to the Galra systems. But if they ran into problems, at least they weren’t going to leave empty handed.

“Lemme give you a hand,” Hunk murmured, sitting down next to Pidge.  While she set up her pad, he connected the wires to the console’s inner workings.  After a few minutes of quiet working, interrupted only by Matt’s hissed curses and Coran’s responding suggestions, Hunk glanced over.  “You okay?”

Pidge started to tap on the screen with more force than was strictly necessary.  “Yes.”  She watched him over the top of her glasses, scowling.  “If this is about one of your ‘I told you so’s...”

“No.  Not this time.  I didn’t want to be right.”  Hunk sighed and moved closer to her, watching the screen over her shoulder.  “Mostly I want to make sure you’re holding up.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, Pidge glanced over her shoulder.  Coran and Matt didn’t seem to be paying them any mind.  “I just hate that it’s now, you know?  With everything else.  I wish I could just forget about it.  It’s not like it ever did any good.”

Hunk sighed.  “You didn’t know it wouldn’t,” he pointed out.  “For all you guys knew, you’d be able to spot bad situations before they started.  It’s just that things were never that clear-cut.”  He considered, watching the progress bar slowly tick up.  “But you can’t change having watched th-” He paused, glancing back guiltily.  The cursing had stopped and judging by the flashing screen, Matt and Coran were hopefully making progress.  “You can’t change it.  So we have to deal right now and then we can decide what to do after, or if we’re going to tell him what we saw.”

It was Hunk and Keith who were the really good ones at getting to the bottom of things, even if they came at it from different angles.  Pidge prefered the details, working with each tree rather than the forest, so it could be frustrating when one of them saw something she didn’t.  But right now it was only comforting.  

“Yeah,” she agreed.  “We’ll all talk then.  Just a couple of days.”

“In the meantime, you should do what I did,” Hunk said.  “After, I was still shaken up, so I asked Shiro for a hug.”

Biting her tongue against admitting she’d heard, Pidge frowned.  “Is that a good idea?  He’s got enough going on.”

“Well, that’s the thing.  It’s not just for you, is it?  I think Shiro would feel better knowing we want contact from him rather than avoiding him.”

Pidge colored.  That was true and she hadn’t done a good job of seeing it.  “I’ll talk to him,” Pidge replied.  “For now-”

She was cut off by a whispered cheer and Coran clapped Matt on the back.  “Well done!  That’s how you do it!”

“Who needs password cracking software when you have common sense?” Matt replied, lips curled in a vicious smile.  “You two good over there?”

Pidge glanced at her pad again.  20 percent.  “It’ll be a bit,” she replied, standing up.  “You’re in the Galra systems?”

“Yup!” Matt replied.  “That wasn’t too bad.  Twenty minutes, not quite?  I’m just glad my work assignment was the same industry as this planet worked in, otherwise figuring out the accesses would have been way worse.  Now, we’ve only got a little while before we risk setting off alarms.  What do we want to know about first?”

Hunk considered.  “Voltron.  Let’s see what they know?”

But Coran shook his head.  “Zarkon knows just about everything about Voltron already.  There’ll be nothing new there.  What about at the trading station?  Was there anything in there we could search for?”

Matt’s brow furrowed as he thought.  “That’s the one where you found all those containers, right?”

“Yeah and when Allura was captured.”  Coran’s expression darkened, just for a moment, and Pidge barrelled on to get passed the potentially uncomfortable conversation.  “Keith fought- oh!  Druids!  They’re supposed to be under Zarkon, right?”

“Haggar,” Hunk breathed.  “We can look up her directly.”

Nodding, Matt input the inquiry.  Results started to pop up almost immediately.  “Okay, our access isn’t perfect.  Looks like some of this is only accessible by generals.”

Well, it had been too good to be true.  “Let’s worry about downloading it now and sorting through it later,” Pidge suggested.  “That way we don’t have to worry about skimming through it all before we need to get out.”

“On it,” Hunk murmured, setting up another pad to the console.  “We should back it up on the castle, too.  In case something happens to one of these pads.  I don’t trust anyone here.”

Coran nodded.  “Good plan.  I don’t encourage you to try and make friends.”

That wasn’t something anyone needed to worry about.  No matter what the Kratok had been to the Alteans once upon a time, they were not the allies of Voltron now.

As soon as they had enough formation, Pidge wanted to be off this chilly hunk of rock.

***

It wasn’t a surprise to find Shiro awake later.

Frankly, Pidge would have been stunned if he was sleeping.

They had been split up, taking over most of the hallway they’d been dumped in, and the entrance to the section had been blocked off with a warning about repairs.  It wasn’t perfect, but at least it meant they all weren’t piled in one room and they could walk around a little.

Pidge tracked Shiro down to one of their accessible rooms.  It was a tiny thing, barely more than a closet, and it had a couple of nice chairs, a lamp and a bookshelf.  Pidge suspected that once upon a time, someone had lived in this wing who was an avid reader.  It had long since fallen out of use, but it was too small to serve as one of their rooms, which made it a good place to take a breather.

“Hey,” she murmured softly, knocking on the frame to announce her presence.  Despite not being quiet when walking in, Shiro still jolted and turned, eyes wide.

It was amazing, how different he looked from just earlier than evening.  The difference between the Champion and just Shiro.  And both of them were different from the Black Paladin.

But they were all forced into those kinds of changes, weren’t they?  After all, there was a huge difference between Katie Holt and Pidge Gunderson.

“Hi,” Shiro returned softly.  “You should get some sleep.”

Pidge didn’t bother to return the comment.  “I wanted to talk with you first.”

Nodding, Shiro rested his hand on the back of one of the chairs.  All of him was tensed and his head drooped like he was waiting for a blow.  “What about?” he asked, though it was clear he’d made up his mind what she wanted to talk about.

Yeah, screw that.  “Actually, talk is a bad word.  I was kind of hoping for a hug.”

Shiro’s head shot up, eyes wide.  “You want...” He trailed off, but he glanced down at himself, with an extra glance to the metal arm.

“Yup,” Pidge replied, voice strengthening as she stepped forward.  “If you’re not feeling like contact that’s fine, but it’s what I want.”

For a moment, Shiro stayed so still it was like all of him was made of metal.  Then he opened his arms in invitation and Pidge stepped into his space.  She latched her arms around his stomach and held on tight. 

Shiro’s arms slowly lowered down over her shoulder, like he was afraid he’d hurt her with too much pressure.  “Everything okay?” He asked.  Then he sighed.  “That was a stupid question.”

“Yes, it was,” Pidge replied plainly, speaking to Shiro’s shirt.  She noticed, now that she was closer, that it was thicker and baggier than his usual one, cut in the same style as Coran’s.  With only the dim lamp, she hadn’t noticed at first, since it still covered his neck and was just as black.  “It hurt to watch you fight like that.”

Shiro flinched, a full body move that Pidge could feel move through him like a ripple.  “I’m sorry, I never wanted you to see-”

“Shove it,” Pidge shot back.  “I don’t mean that and you’d know it if you thought about it. I mean that  _ bastard  _ made you fight in an arena again.  I want to kill him.”

“Please don’t,” Shiro replied, voice dry, but his shoulders relaxed.  “He’s useful.”

Pidge growled.  “He’s an idiot.”

“Idiots can be useful.”

Huffing, Pidge glared at a button on Shiro’s new shirt.  “I hate him and I hate what he made you do.  It has nothing to do with how you acted.  You came back to us and anything else we can work with.”

Apparently that was the right thing to say, because it was like a switch flipping.  Shiro slumped, curling around Pidge and squeezing her tightly.  “Okay. I can understand that.  But I’m serious.  I’m still worried about how bloodthirsty you all are getting.”  Pidge didn’t respond because she didn’t get Shiro’s objections, but it was an argument they’d been having recently, and would again after this all ended.  “How’s your father and Matt holding up?”

“I think Dad might start attacking people with his cane,” Pidge replied carefully.  “But he’s patient.  He survived working with the Galaxy Garrison, he has to be.  He’ll be okay.  And Matt’s better now.  He got to be useful.  You should talk to him, though.”

Shiro took a deep breath.  “Right.  I will.”  He seemed to be coming back to the Shiro they knew, instead of the ghost of a prisoner he’d been that evening.  If they were lucky, he’d also come to his damn senses and they could all leave.  

Finally, Shiro let go and rested his hands on Pidge’s shoulders.  “You really do need rest.  We need you at your best, or at least your best under the circumstances.  I know you’re exempt from the political maneuvering tomorrow, so feel free to sleep through as much of the day as you need to.”

That wasn’t news, but Pidge nodded anyway.  Letting Shiro fuss seemed to be helping him and it made her feel like they were back on track.  “I will.  I’m going to take advantage.  How often do we get told to sleep in on purpose?”

“More often than I should,” Shiro returned, and he actually smiled.  “Now go, before we have to start calling you Owl instead of Pidge.”

Groaning, Pidge shook her head, but her lips pulled up.  “That was bad, Shirio.”

He shrugged.  “I’m running on empty, so I think that was pretty good, considering.”  Shiro gave her hair a last ruffle.  “Seriously, bed.”

“Alright, alright.  I’m going.  You should try too, even just a little.”  

Shiro just smiled back, thin and ragged.

They both knew he wouldn’t.  But it was the thought that counted.

“Good night,” Pidge murmured, and finally turned around to slip out.

“Good night,” floated after her.

And wouldn’t it have been nice if it was actually a good night?

Just a couple more of these, hopefully.  Pidge was going to do her best to make sure of it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confused? Check out [this chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7381330/chapters/16853476) for help. 
> 
> Surprise! This fic is not entirely Shiro POV. 
> 
> On Monday we follow Lance. Enjoy!


	6. The Meeting

Lance glanced around the table nervously.

In all their missions, Lance had been aware what they were doing was important.  He’d been aware that the things they said and did had far reaching consequences.  They’d all seen it.

But he’d felt distant from it anyway.  Lance had never really been called upon to be part of the political leader-to-leader stuff.  Why would he?  It was always Allura or Shiro.  The people who actually, well, led.  They’d done their parts and after they’d been allowed to rest or explore and that was that.

Today was different.

That morning, before they’d left the tech team to sleep, Allura had pulled Lance and Keith aside.

“I’m going to need your help,” Allura told them, gaze serious.

Lance opened his mouth, a crack about ‘anything for you’, on the tip of his tongue.  But then he froze when he saw the look in her eyes.

It was the same kind of burning determined expression she got when, say, torturing them without breaks for a day in order to force them to bond.  Serious and just slightly desperate.

Allura meant this.  

So Lance shut his mouth.

She caught his eyes and nodded at how he curbed himself.  “We need to be doing as much as we can with the political leaders of this planet.  It will give us the most leverage in the upcoming days.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed dangerously.  “We have plenty of leverage with Shiro,” he spat, and Lance genuinely wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Keith sound that bitter.

But Allura only met his gaze head on.  “Exactly.  If we have more allies on this planet, we’re not limited to Maros as our only means of getting around.  The more people there are to help balance his interests, the less excessive he can be.”

Which meant no more show gladiator fights hopefully.

Lance blinked slowly, thinking it over.  “This is all a game to him.  If we keep him busy with obligations, both to us and to other people with authority here, he can’t indulge as much.”

“Right,” Allura replied, honestly approving, and Lance wished it was under better circumstances. The pride was tainted by how shitty the situation was.

“We’re the only ones left,” Keith murmured, already jumping ahead in the conversation.  “Because the others will be working with the tech and Shiro’s already playing his role.”

Closing her eyes, Allura nodded.  “Yes.  Normally I’d rely on Coran or Shiro, but they’re both busy.  While Sam offered to help, I believe he’ll be spending more time shadowing Shiro, which is helpful on its own.”  She sighed, then looked at them again.  “I don’t like asking this of you without more training.  We’ve neglected the negotiation and political side of the paladin training by necessity, but here I need back-up.  If nothing else, I just need additional voices to avoid being ganged up on in a conversation.  I’ll need your help with this.”

And so now Lance understood.  The next ten minutes had been a blur of hissed instructions, on what to look for in speech and body language that tended to be relatively universal.  Suggestions for openings or how to approach an idea.

Allura had nodded to Lance.  “Mostly, I need you to be able to do what you did yesterday.  To redirect a conversation to one that better suits us.”

The pride he’d felt earlier bubbled up again but it was like adding carbonation to coffee.  Bitter and fizzy and didn’t sit right with him.

But there was also an edge of steel to it.  Because Lance had a tool.  It was the first useful one he’d found since they came to this damn planet.  He couldn’t leverage Maros like Shiro could and he couldn’t do any of the tech stuff they needed.  But Lance could talk.

So he would.

This first meeting was with a pair of young representatives from some of the southern mining areas. They were, Maros had informed him, known to be critical to the Galra.  Which wasn’t surprising, given that they worked for beings who were less elite.  They probably suffered far more from Galra rule than anyone in this capital city.  Not everywhere was probably this cozy.

In fact, Lance was willing to bet that quality of life plummeted the farther you got from the capital.  The Galra knew that if you kept the people in charge relatively happy, controlling the rest became much easier.

Or, Lance assumed they knew.  This was the first planet they’d found that they didn’t just crush, but apparently they were capable of switching things up.

So now he, Allura, and Keith were running the meeting.  Maros was supposed to be there, except he’d never shown.

Which Lance would have been okay with, except Shiro was still with the king.

But first they had to deal with these two.

“If you are Voltron, why do you not simply attack?” one of the representatives, Anise, demanded.  “There have been no reports of your castle or your machines.”  She looked deeply suspicions of the entire situation.

Lance couldn’t blame her.  If Maros had come to him, offering something he wanted, Lance would have told him to shove it up his ass.

Or he wouldn’t.  Because Lance was starting to learn there were better ways.

Keith crossed his arms.  “And where would you have us attack, huh?  This whole planet is taken over; it’s not like there’s one outpost.”

“The trade ports, for one,” Anise replied, just as sharp.

With a quick,  nervous  glance at Allura, Lance raised his hands.  “We wouldn’t know that,” he pointed out, as reasonable as possible.  “We just arrived on this planet and we’re trying to understand the landscape.”

Selmak nodded, huge hands folded in front of him.  Between the two, he was quieter and seemed to be less inclined to jump to conclusions.  However, he had a sharp look to his eyes that Lance was  wary  of.  “That does not explain the lack of any other evidence that you are who you say.  Where is the castle?”

“Hidden,” Allura replied, before Lance could speak.  Which was good, because he’d wanted to tell them, just to prove them wrong.

Which, now that he was thinking about it, might be their strategy.

Both stayed quiet for a moment, waiting for more.  “I see,” Selmak drawled, tilting his head.  It made his huge mane shift and flow.  It was on the longer side, just short of Maros’, but it lacked most of the indicators of wealth the king showed, without jewels or decorations of any kind.

Next to him, Keith’s lips pulled back from the flat, disbelieving tone.  Before he could say anything, Lance kicked the side of his leg.  Thankfully, he didn’t jump or curse, but he did shoot Lance a dark look.

“Obviously, being sighted is a problem for us,” Allura continued, brows up.  She looked down her nose at them both, like they were the ones being idiots.

Lance tried very hard not to smirk when they were the ones to bristle this time.  Ha.  Smug bastards.

But maybe it was time to throw them a bone.  “Is there another way we can prove our intentions to you?” Lance replied, trying to copy Allura’s tone.  “One that wouldn’t hurt both our objectives?”

That put the ball in their court and then bent their heads together, murmuring too softly to hear.  While they were distracted, Allura gave Lance another nod.

Between them, Keith sank lower in his seat.

Lance wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen him looking less comfortable, which was saying something.

“The stories of the paladins speak of their powerful weapons,” Anise finally replied.  “If you wish us to be part of a... significant act against the Galra, then you should prove you have the ability to fight.”

Lance started to reply, already reaching for his bayard, when someone else spoke up.

“Oh, you missed quite the display last night!” Maros replied, more loudly than Lance was comfortable with.  He still had one hand on the door handle, like he’d just opened it.  “The Champion beat my Osaha soundly.  She’s still in recovery today.  And that’s no mean feat!”

Stepping in, Maros sat down at the head of the table, grinning and seeming unconcerned that he’d completely interrupted the flow of the meeting.  Behind him, Shiro and Sam settled in the remaining two seats, with Shiro right next to Maros.  

His expression was completely blank.  And from the way Sam was sticking close, it looked like it had been a very long morning.

Selmak froze, frowning at Shiro.  “He beat Osaha?”

“That’s the Champion you’ve been so obsessed with?” Anise asked, head tilted.  She looked him up and down and didn’t seem to find him up to snuff.

Shiro didn’t even blink at the treatment, staring ahead with his jaw set.

Laughing, Maros nodded.  “He may not look it, but he is.”  And he reached over and clapped his hand over the back of Shiro’s head.  The palm alone covered the entire top of Shiro’s head, dwarfing him.

Even from here, Lance could see the way Shiro’s eyes widened and seemed to glaze.

Keith’s whole body tensed up.  And before Lance could even think about reacting, Allura’s arm shot out and she took hold of Keith’s wrist under the table, keeping him down in his seat before he could launch across the room and show off his bayard on Maros.

Letting out a furious hiss of breath, Keith yanked his arm away from her, but didn’t stand up.  Instead he watched Maros like he could set him on fire.

The whole exchange had to have taken less than two seconds.  But it felt like an hour.

Distraction.  Lance’s job was to distract.  He could do that.

“All due respect, Your Highness, but I believe you missed some of the sentence.  Our esteemed representatives were asking about specific artifacts.”  Lance told him, using his most flattering tones.  It felt odd, to use it without the flirtatious edge.  It sounded wrong to his own ears.  But it seemed to work, keeping everyone’s attention.  Lance pulled out his bayard and shifted it, then held the gun up so they could all see.  “These are the weapons you’ve heard of.  They’re individual for each paladin.”

Anise leaned forward, eyes bright.  “What does it do?”

Okay, good.  This was working.   _ Good _ .  “On their own, they are useful weapons.  Mine fires charges with pinpoint accuracy and with no worry of range, for example.  But while they are good individually, their greatest use is in conjunction with the lions.  Then they become weapons that can take out a Galra vessel or kill one of the druid’s monsters.”

That seemed to finally impress them.  Selmak and Anise had Lance do the shift back and forth.  Then Lance prodded Keith until he showed his own as well.

Now appeased, the representatives seemed much more open.  “What is it you wish from us, then?” Selmak asked, watching them carefully.  “What do you gain from our audience?”

Well, a distraction for Maros.  But that wasn’t exactly the sort of thing they’d want to hear.

“We want to create a movement,” Allura replied.  “Cohesion.  For one, driving the Galra does no good if the majority of people want them to stay, if only because it’s what they know.  For another, it does even less good if we do so, only for there to be pure chaos afterwards.”

Maros huffed.  “You may have trouble there.  The people are content under the Galra.”

For the first time, Selmak’s cool expression broke, and his muzzle crinkled up.  But he kept his head carefully facing Allura, who was on the other side of the table from Maros.  “In areas such as ours, I think you’ll find the people can be persuaded.”

Shrugging, like it didn’t much bother him either way, Maros nodded.

It occurred to Lance that this stalling game might have two sides.  They were stalling Maros for the information from the Galra servers.  He was stalling them for...

For what, Lance couldn’t be certain.  But judging by how little he seemed to care for the politics and appeasing anyone, and how much he cared about indulging himself, it was probably to drag as much entertainment out of Shiro as possible.

Which...

Which sucked, but didn’t change anything.  Not really.

As much as Lance hated it.

“We’ll need to think on this,” Anise finally said, standing.  It drew the attention onto her and away from Selmak.  “But you can trust in our silence for now.”

Well, they could, but only because they’d be monitoring the two of them for their stay.  And because they were known for rebel behavior, and agreeing to a meeting with the paladins would probably get them killed too, even if they hadn’t known.

Lance would feel bad about putting them in that position but... nope.  He didn’t.  So there.  They could eat it.

Standing as well, Allura bowed to them, a dip of her head.  Luckily that seemed to be consistent here because they did the same back, slightly deeper due to her royal rank.  “We will speak soon,” Allura promised.

As the representatives left, Maros watched them and sighed.  “By no means the best our people have to offer, but they were at least a safe bet.  Are you satisfied with your talk?”  His hand had moved down off Shiro’s head, but was pressed between his shoulder blades again.  

Lance’s heart clenched, but it didn’t seem to be a sexual type of gesture.  Just possessive.

There was a loud creak as Keith shoved his seat back.  “I forgot something in our rooms,” he forced out.  “I’ll head back.  I remember the way.”

That seemed to wake Shiro up more and he glanced at Keith as he passed by.  Their gazes met, but then Keith closed his eyes and kept walking. The door closed heavily behind him.

Shiro turned his head to follow, but he at least didn’t look worried.  Just sad.  

That was fair.  Lance figured Keith probably just needed air to keep from losing his temper.  Shiro knew Keith better than anyone.

“And what is your weapon, Champion?” Maros asked suddenly, dragging Shiro’s attention back to the room.

“Oh.  I don’t have one.  Besides what you saw last night, that is.  The black bayard was lost centuries ago,” Shiro replied.  “It was lost with its paladin.”  His gaze cut sideways to Allura as he repeated her words, but looked back away quickly.

Maros huffed.  “Very careless,” he said, and the look he cast the rest of the group made it seem like he found it reflected badly on the whole of Voltron, past and present.  “Some people don’t appreciate the things they have.”

Across the table, Sam spoke for the first time.  “It was a lot time ago, from what I understand.”  There was steel to his voice and his eyes burned.  “Besides, it’s the people that we care for.”

Shiro’s eyes flickered toward him and some of the tension around the corner of his eyes seemed to relax.

On Shiro’s other side, Maros just huffed.  “We shall see.”

...What did that mean?

“For now, I think we’ve taken enough of your time,” Allura interjected.  “We should speak with the rest of the group on their progress last night, now that we have time to work through the information.  I know as King you have a great many responsibilities.”

For a moment, Maros hesitated.  Then he nodded.  “I do have duties, you are correct.  My work is never done.  I’ll speak with you again later.”  He patted Shiro’s back once more, never seeming to notice the way tension snapped Shiro’s shoulders up.  

The second the door closed behind him, Shiro slumped forward, resting his face in his hands.

“We should have brought those paintball guns with us,” Sam murmured, voice darker than Lance had ever heard it.  “Never in all my years has someone tested my patience so thin.”  He shook his head and sighed, teeth visibly grinding.  

Allura frowned at them both.  “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Shiro replied shortly.  “Just... frustrated.  He thinks he’s being  _ subtle.” _  And then Shiro laughed, but it sounded like there were cracks running through it.  Like he had dropped the laugh and it had shattered on the ground, then he’d decided to use it anyway.

It sounded broken.

Lance shivered and swallowed hard.  Now that Maros was gone, he could move over and sit next to Shiro, but he kept his hands on the table rather than touch.  He wasn’t sure that was a good idea at the moment.

When Shiro didn’t continue, Lance glanced at Sam in open question.

Letting out a sigh, Sam leaned back in his hair.  “Most of the conversation was about previous encounters.  It’s clear he wants Shiro to be his, like Osaha.  Perhaps a replacement, since he did defeat her, or maybe both, for-”  He went suddenly very still, like a nasty thought had struck him, but then continued on quickly.  “He’s not at the point of outright asking yet.”

“I can’t turn him down,” Shiro replied.  “He won’t take it well.  He’ll make everything difficult and we still need more time.  I can pretend cluelessness until he asks directly and then I’ll have to demure or say yes.”

Lance swallowed hard.  “Then you say yes.  He’s an idiot, he’ll believe a lie.  We know better.”  Finally picking his head up, Shiro looked at Lance, expression strained and tired.  “Worst case scenario is that you say yes and, he, what?  Tells you to switch to his wing or something?  No matter what security is in there, we’ll get you out.  And he won’t make you do anything until we’re gone and then you leave with us.  Simple as that.”

“Lance is absolutely correct,” Allura says.  “If it comes to that, we get the castle and get you out.  Remember that the lions are only a short distance away.  If it ever became a situation that you couldn’t get out of, the black lion will bring you back.”

Sam snorted.  “I don’t think even the lions could get here faster than it would take for us to break you out, if we were determined.  We’re not short on firepower, even in Galra occupied territory.  Certainly enough to blow out a wall or two if need be.”

Inch by inch, Shiro seemed to relax.  “You’re right,” he replied.  “Same as for anyone.  My head got away from me, I think.”

This time, Lance dared to reach out and rest his hand on Shiro’s shoulder.  When he didn’t tense or look uncomfortable, Lance squeezed.  “That’s what we’re here for.  The second you’ve had enough, you call it.  That was the deal.”  At Shiro’s look of surprise, Lance raised his brows.  “You think we don’t talk?  Hunk, Pidge and Keith told everyone what you promised.”

“Of course they did,” Shiro replied, dry enough to sound like his normal tone.  “Alright, we should get back before someone needs this room and sees us.  We should check on Keith, too.”

Yeah.  That was probably a good plan.  Keith could be, Lance admitted, one of the most effective and clever of them.  But when he was in a temper, he had a tendency to make awful choices.  

Especially when Shiro was involved.

As they prepared to leave, Lance  stayed  close to Shiro and  stuck  his arms out like he was prepared to attack.

“What are you doing?” Shiro asked, voice low, as they stepped into the hall.

Lance gave a quick series of karate chops, one eye closed.  “Defending you from any more raging fanboys.  This one’s enough.  I’ll kick ‘em into open space.  Nobody else gets to admire you but us I’ve decided.”

For a moment, Shiro didn’t seem to know how to react to that.  Then his lips quirked up, just barely, and he ducked his head.  “No one else, huh?  That’s the strategy we’re going with?”

“Yup.  From now on we shoot them on sight.  Seems like the safest bet.  Your fans are the worst and I’ve been on the internet.  I’ve seen bad fans.”

Shiro rolled his eyes, but it was such a familiar gesture that it only made Lance feel better.  “I’ll be sure to call you if anyone wants my autograph.”

Flapping a hand, Lance snorted.  “You won’t need to.  No calling necessarily.  I’ll be right there the whole time.  Everyone else, too.  You just relax, we’ve got it.”

“I feel safer already,” Shiro replied.  Despite his joking tone, his eyes were warm.

He looked like he kind of meant it.

Well, good.  That was one victory today.  Two if you counted the representatives seeming content.

Hopefully they could count on another from the tech team.

***

Later, while Lance and Allura were going back over the conversation, comparing impressions of the officials, Keith stepped over.  “I can’t do it.  This political stuff.  I can’t.  It drove me crazy to sit there and listen to them and Maros.  Put me on the tech team, I can at least learn to do that.  I’ll lift things and run errands or something.”

Allura’s brows rose at the small rant.  “If you’re not interested in continuing, you don’t need to.  I think Lance and I have it covered.  He’s been a bigger help than I could have hoped for.”  She shot Lance a small smile, which made his chest feel full and warm.  “But I have another use for you, one that might be more useful than our stall, besides.”

Frowning, Keith seemed to consider it.  Then he nodded.  “Okay. What?”

“We’re not going to get anywhere from just having face to face conversations, especially with Maros.  But you got through almost all of the trade hub without being noticed and even then it was only by a Druid.”  Allura’s lips pulled up.  “I don’t dare bring the mice here when it’s so difficult for them to get around.  If we had to leave in a hurry, it would be an issue.  But someone who doesn’t mind sneaking around and keeping an ear to the ground...”

Allura wanted Keith as their spy?

Slowly, Keith’s lips curled up.  “I’m pretty good at getting around quietly,” he agreed.  “If I can borrow one of Pidge’s lock hacking programs, I think that’d help.”

Allura matched Keith’s smile with a toothy smirk of her own.

So maybe they weren’t just the stall.  Maybe they were a force on their own.

Lance could work with that.  Especially just for a couple of days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week, we finally see into Shiro's head again.


	7. The Visit

Shiro was used to being busy.  Hell, it was a coping strategy for him.  If he was moving and doing, he felt better than when he just sat around.

This was different, though.  Because Maros seemed to have no concept that people might have lives and schedules outside of him.  Or maybe that was just their team, since they were damn near Maros’ gilded prisoners.

Since leaving Maros so he could attend to his duties - which, Shiro assumed he did actually have, but he had yet to see any proof of that - they had met back up with the tech team to go through the data found.  Mostly, the progress had been technical rather than informational: they were testing their limits of where they could go and what they could see.

“Normally I’d just blunt force trauma it,” Pidge had mused, frowning at her laptop.  “But we need to sift through the data and figure out what’s most important.  Once we go in hard, we’ll be locked out for good.”

Matt had snorted in return.  “Blunt force trauma?  My dear sister, that is why you managed to get caught by the idiots who run the Garrison’s security.”

Rather than reply, Pidge had just stuck her tongue out, then ignored him.  She’d been quiet, the past day, but so had all of them.  Even without the... unfortunate incident of last night’s dinner, everyone was feeling the strain of being cooped up and kept contained.

Shiro wanted to say something.  He wanted to have the right words that would make everyone feel energized and ready to tackle the rest of the day.

But Shiro was  _ tired.   _ And he was still having trouble meeting everyone’s eyes.  Even that little taste of what he was like in the arena was too much.  And every time Pidge looked away from his gaze too quick, or Hunk tried too hard to be boisterous and comforting, Shiro felt exposed.  Like it had been enough, and they saw him too deeply.

That they’d decided Champion meant Monster.

Shiro didn’t disagree.

And no matter how many times Shiro reminded himself of what Sam had said - that he was projecting, that he knew they loved him - it didn’t stop the icy horror from climbing up his spine like frost-bitten vines.

That was when there was a knock on the door.

When Shiro opened it, Maros was there.  

“I need you to change,” he demanded, without any sort of greeting.  “You alone will not attract much attention, if you are wearing the proper dress.”

Shiro glanced back at the others, feeling knocked off his footing.  That was Maros’ talent, bulldozing through with demands and gestures before Shiro could settle.  “Alone?  I-”

Stepping forward, Sam tapped his cane on the floor, eyes hard as he stared at Maros.  “That is not up to Shiro, I’m afraid.  Our orders were to never be on our own. I’m sure you understand.”

Maros’ lips curled back unhappily in the beginnings of a snarl.  “At this time, I feel it’s smarter to have just one of you with me,” he replied sharply, as though he hadn’t had several of them out for the meeting earlier.  “And it is not any kind of strategy meeting.  Just a social visit.”  Maros turned his gaze to Shiro.  “I thought you might like to speak to Osaha, now that she is out of medical treatment.  But she will not be comfortable with multiple visitors, while she is still injured.”

God, Shiro did not.  And he had no idea why Maros wanted him to.

“If we aren’t back in two hours, you have my permission to storm the castle looking for us,” Maros continued, sounding almost bored.

Allura eyed him, expression set.  “This doesn’t seem very necessary.  Is it worth compromising our goals?”

The look Maros shot her was bland.  Clearly, it didn’t compromise Maros’ goals at all.  Instead, he turned to Shiro.  “Do you not want to check on her?”

He didn’t.  But what kind of person did that make Shiro?  Osaha had been forced into that fight just as much as he had been.  She’d been vicious, but Shiro was the Champion - fighting without the intention of winning would do her no good.

And Shiro thought about the way he’d snapped with that bounty hunter, a few weeks back.  He thought about how they’d all been so relaxed with his violence, hadn’t cared at all about the wounds he caused.

Shiro had set an example, and they’d followed him.  And now it was time to set a different one.  Even if Shiro himself didn’t care to, it wasn’t about him.  

It was about making sure his team didn’t become like Shiro.

Glancing back, he caught Keith’s eyes, more by accident than by design.  Keith mouthed ‘veto’.

Shiro pretended he hadn’t saw.

“I would,” he answered, purposefully avoiding anyone’s gazes.  “But is now the best time?”

Maros’ eyes were bright with satisfaction.  The icy vines in Shiro’s back climbed higher, reaching for the base of his neck.  “Later tonight she will resume her duties.  Now is the best time without interrupting the schedule farther than it already has been.”

In short, the chance would be passed.

Shiro glance sideways at the others, taking in the wide expressions.

There really was only one answer.  And it was the one that was the best for his team, Shiro’s comfort be damned.

So he nodded.  “Alright.  If you leave the clothes with me, I’ll meet you out in a few minutes.”

Maros’ lips pulled back into a smile that showed all this teeth.  “Perfect.  I’ll meet you shortly, then.  Be quick.”

With that, he closed the door.

And chaos erupted.

“Why do you keep  _ doing  _ this?” Keith demanded, voice so rough that Shiro started and turned to look at him.  “Every fucking time that bastard asks you to jump, you do it!”

Shiro stared Keith down until he backed up a step.  “It’s only for a couple of hours tops.  Probably less,” he replied, trying to keep his voice as level as possible.  “And it’s not an unreasonable request.  I should make sure I didn’t do any long term damage.”

“But she was trying to hurt you,” Hunk shot back, jaw set and eyes narrowed.  He was settled back on his heels, a sure sign that he’d made up his mind about someone’s character.  “Everything that happened is on her, as far as I’m concerned.  Veto.”  

Shiro eyed them all, lips thinning.  “And where was her chance to make any other choice?” He pointed out, his voice rising without his permission.  “When did she get a chance to say she didn’t want to do this?  Do you think she volunteered?”

Silence was his answer.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro closed his eyes.  “In a place like that, there’s no choice but to go all out.  The alternative is to die.  And she had no options.  So before you decide she’s an irredeemable monster, look at who you’re talking to.”

“Shiro,” Coran murmured.  “No one said anything-”

But Shiro wasn’t listening anymore.  He couldn’t.  So he turned on his heel and walked out, doing his best not to slam the door behind him.  Maros would hear that.

Shiro took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  That wasn’t the response he’d wanted to have.  But it had been what came out, with a irrepressible force that left his fingers numb and his head aching.

Then he stepped into another room to change.  There was no time to waste on this.  

Maros was waiting.

***

“Osaha!” Maros boomed, arms spread and sleeves draping artistically.  “I see you’re doing well.”

Frowning, Osaha’s eyes darted to Shiro, then back to the king.  “Yes, Your Highness.”

Doing well was relative.  Her arms had never had long fur, but now it was buzzed down to peach fuzz.  Her hands were still tightly bandaged, and the side of her face had a darker undertone, like a bruise.  Shiro wasn’t sure if they didn’t have any kind of healing technology on this planet, or if Osaha’s injuries just didn’t rank use of it.

Or maybe she herself just didn’t rank high enough.  Shiro had a lot of sympathy for that.

Maros nodded, looking around rather than directly at her.  “Excellent, excellent.  Can’t have you down for too long, after all.  No, that wouldn’t do.”  But his heart didn’t seem to be in it, and Osaha kept tensing under every word.  She seemed to be preparing for something.

Shiro had no idea what.

Then Maros took a few steps back and placed his hands on his hips, watching them regaly.  “Yes.  Yes this will work.”  He tilted his head and raised his hands, staring between like he was framing them.  “Absolutely.”

Oh, no.  Please don’t make this the job offer. Shiro was hoping to at least drag it out for an extra day.  There was only so long he could go back and forth over it, after all.  He needed to buy them time.  And, yes, he could lie and give in, but Shiro didn’t want to.  He never wanted to say yes to this treatment.

But rather than say it, Maros just nodded calmly.  “The Champion will see to you, Osaha.  I’ll be back shortly.”

Then he stepped out.  To give them time to talk.

Brows up, Shiro glanced over at Osaha.  “Is there anything you need help with, then?”

Osaha glared at him, eyes molten and furious.  “If you attempt to touch me, I will bite out your throat out,  _ Champion.” _

Well.  That answered that.  Shiro took a deep breath and reminded himself what he’d told the others.  Osaha had no choice.  She had even less say than him, because at least he had back-up.

And if they switched places, Shiro wouldn’t want his touch either.

“Why have you not left?” She demanded furiously.  “I told you to leave this place.  No good will come to you here.”

It was perhaps the most talkative mood he’d ever caught her in.  Losing to him had loosened her tongue.  Or, more likely, she’d thought she would win the fight and make them leave, either because of his death or because his defeat would cause Maros’ to lose interest.

Tilting his head, Shiro considered her.  “We have goals that we haven’t met,” he answered carefully.

“You never will,” she snarled back, undeterred.  “No one here wants a rebellion.  Not really.  A few may speak of it, because the Galra’s policies are unpopular with the people.  But none of them will side with you.  You know  _ nothing.” _

Deciding at anger would make her talk more than soothing, Shiro sat down in a chair and draped himself in it, copying Maros’ body language.  Immediately, she bristled, and her tail lashed angrily.  “We know plenty.  More than you do, from those machines.”

Osaha spat on the floor.  “That means nothing.  That knowledge does you no good, and us even less.  For us, it is nothing but a death sentence.  The last rebellion killed hundreds of thousands, and more from disease and conditions.  No one will dare do it again.  No amount of freedom is worth that.”

Stomach twisting, Shiro closed his eyes.  That made sense, especially in the capital, where things were good.  They were far removed from the worst of the Galra’s cruelties, even on their own planet.

But that wasn’t what they were really here for.  Not really.  They could leave this planet in peace just as soon as they were ready.

And Osaha didn’t need to know that.

“We’ve already met with people who are interested,” Shiro replied instead.  “Your perspective is not everyone’s.”

Osaha straightened and looked down on him.  “You are stupid,” she declared, voice dripping with venom.  “As stupid as you are without honor in the arena.  You fight like a coward.”

Not inaccurate.

Shiro fought to survive.  It just happened that Galra audiences loved a dirty fighter.

“Your king doesn’t think so,” Shiro replied coldly.

Osaha just continued to stare him down. “Those you have killed do.”

Fair point.

Before Shiro could swallow the cold lump in his throat, Maros returned.  He glanced between them both and smiled.  “You have spoken?  Good, good.  That is excellent.” Without waiting for a response from either - not that he would have gotten it - Maros nodded to Osaha.  “You are dismissed until this evening.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Osaha replied, tone carefully blank.  

Maros turned to look at Shiro, gesturing for him to get up.  “I had best you get back to the rest of them soon.  They will become anxious, I believe.  It seems they don’t like you alone with me.”  He smirked, as though they shared a great secret between them.  “Say your goodbyes for now.  You’ll be seeing more of Osaha soon.”

No doubt.  Shiro nodded to her, mostly because Maros’ eyes were on him.

Osaha bared her teeth in response.

Then Maros’ huge hand was on Shiro’s back, between his shoulder blades.  As soon as the door closed, he started to speak. “I find myself being indulgent with you, Champion.”

By Maros’ definition?  No doubt.  “You have been, Your Highness.  We’ve appreciated your hospitality and willingness to listen very much.”  The words felt awkward on his tongue.

Thankfully, Maros didn’t seem to notice.  He didn’t seem to notice anything he didn’t want to.  “Oh, I don’t mean just these few days, though your thanks is noted.  I mean much farther back than that.  You were always my favorite, in that ring.  And I think I showed you that very well, with all my presents.”

_ A small alien, wide-eyed and thin.  Literally stick thin, made of intertwined vines.  They held a sword tightly, though they could barely keep it up.  The leaves on the vines shook with the effort. _

_ They were so small. _

_ Was this the side of an adult?  The strength of one?  Or was it- _

_ “Favor goes to the Champion!” _

_ Favor?  He had no special weapons, no unique terrain.  There was nothing here to think someone had changed the odds for him. _

_ Except... _

_ Except for his opponent. _

_ Crying out, the alien charged forward, clumsy but fast.  Shiro moved out of the way easily, the way they haphazardly waved the sword without any clear technique more dangerous than any intent they had. _

_ The crowd bayed, chanting and growing rowdy.  Veprit Sa.  Veprit Sa. _

_ But Shiro didn’t attack the alien’s unprotected back. He was frozen by horror, mind jumping ahead to conclusions he didn’t want to draw.  They never gave him opponents like this.  The Galra prefered the next big thing, the new dangerous monster or rising star.  A match they could promote for better sales. _

_ This wasn’t... _

_ Was this...? _

_ The alien swung again, and Shiro dodged back out of the way.  He had no weapon, but he didn’t need one.  At this point, he could wait for this alien to trip and fall on their own sword before he’d never get hurt. _

_ Snarling, the alien pointed at him, panting heavily and shaking harder still from the effort.  “Fight me.  You must.” _

_ “I don’t want to,” Shiro replied simply. _

_ Arms drooping, the alien ducked their head.  “They said he was bloodthirsty enough,” they muttered, and Shiro had the distinct feeling he wasn’t supposed to hear that.  “I have to-”  And without warning, they dove forward again, swinging with renewed fury. _

_ It was startling enough that Shiro’s body acted before he could think it through.  Dodging out of the way, he swung his elbow back at the alien’s neck.  They collapsed down to the ground in one hit. _

_ This being had never been made for combat or labor.  This was a species built for peace. _

_ Shiro stepped over, wanting to help them up.  But the alien flinched from him, letting out a sob.  “M-my family.” _

_ No, not a family.  It was an imprecise translation.  Closer to ‘my parents’. _

_ Shiro’s heart sank. _

_ “Kill!  Veprit Sa!  Kill!”  The crowd roared. _

_ Shaking his head, Shiro stepped away.  “No.  Fight over.” _

_ The cheers turned to furious snarls. _

_ Immediately, panels folded up around the arena.  Several guards moved in, and Shiro tensed up.  But he knew by now this was a fight he’d lose. _

_ They took him away, and Shiro heard the alien scream.  But they stopped before he stepped out of the arena. _

_ Then it was Shiro’s turn. _

“Champion?” Maros called, sounding annoyed.  “Are you paying attention at all?”

Shiro froze, blinking himself back into reality.  One where a huge lion-man was standing over him, looking distinctly displeased.  “I was remembering your first present,” Shiro replied quickly.

Present.  Now even he was calling it that.

Shiro’s stomach clenched, and his throat closed up.

A gift.  A Favor.

He could not cry here.  He would not.

“Ah, yes.  You had fought so hard the last battle,” Maros remembered, sounding almost misty.  “It was the least I could do, to make sure you had a break.  Certainly no injuries from that battle, was there?”

No the kind that left physical marks.  No, it was the kind of punishment that sent pain arching  down his spine like an electric shock.  Or the kind that left Shiro’s minds in tatters even months later.

Nodding distantly, Shiro forced the memories back, so they were lurking in the back of his mind where they belonged. But they were close, and every time he blinked, he saw that small alien flinch from his very presence.

“It was thoughtful,” Shiro managed, and even he could tell his voice was distant and wooden.

But Maros either couldn’t or wouldn’t notice.  “Yes.  But, I did have to keep up you know.  Rumor had it that the Witch Haggar was interested in you as well.  I couldn’t have all my efforts be outclassed, so I gave you perhaps more than I should have.”

_ “Tsk tsk, Champion.  This won’t heal so easily.  I’ll take months to fix you up completely.  We can’t have you down that long.  No, it’ll have to come off.” _

_ “Consider this my Favor.” _

Shiro swallowed hard and forced one foot in front of the other.  He didn’t see it, but he had a faint sense of Maros ahead of him, and could still hear his steps and words.  “I prefer yours to hers.”

“That means much to me, Champion,” Maros said.

Suddenly, he stopped, and Shiro nearly walked into his back.  “Ah, here we are.  Back with your travelling companions.”  His tone was stilted and dismissive, like they were annoying tag-a-longs.

“Thank you again,” Shiro murmured, and he wasn’t even sure what he was thinking Maros for more.  He just knew that Maros wanted to hear it.

Maros nodded.  “Just keep in mind how I favor you, Champion.  Ask yourself who will treat you better.”

And he left before Shiro could formulate a response.  Which was good, because Shiro couldn’t think.

Turning around, he fumbled with the knob to the room he’d left everyone in.  It took several seconds for his shaking hands to remember how to turn it.

“Shiro!”  The chorus of voices and cries nearly made him stumble back.  Everyone was looking at him as he came in.

“We’re so sorry, we didn’t mean-”

“You’re not like her, and it’s not like that-”

“What happened?  What did Maros  _ really  _ want?”

“Are you okay?”

“Shiro?”

He couldn’t... he was...

Shiro was going to be sick.

Running past everyone, he hit the door open with his shoulder and kneeled in front of what served as a toilet.

And Shiro didn’t move away for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And next time we veer off into another POV, and then after that we'll stay in Shiro's head for a while. Alas, Shiro doesn't see much of the full picture in this adventure.
> 
> Who recognizes those flashbacks? : )


	8. The Search

Matt rested his cheek on his palm and watched Keith pace back and forth like a one man tennis match.

It had been over half an hour since Shiro had come in, and the vomiting had died off after about ten minutes.

Since then, it had been quiet.

Matt was starting to think Shiro wasn’t going to come out on his own.  Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.  It’d be the return of some self-preservation, which would be a comfort to see, honestly.

Staring at the bathroom door, Keith shook his head then turned and went back the other way.

“Okay, can you stop?” Hunk finally let out, rubbing his temples. “I get that you’re worried and that you have a lot of energy, but you’re honestly stressing me out.”

Keith froze and looked at Hunk.  He visibly bristled, but then crossed his arms and nodded.  Then he sat down at the table next to Katie.

They shared a pointed look.  Again.

No one in this room was subtle in the least, honestly.

Matt still had no idea what was up with the younger paladins.  Katie and Keith kept swapping dark, upset stares, and then they’d glance at Hunk and Lance, who would only look uncomfortable.  They never brought Allura or Coran into it, and Matt was certainly out of the loop.

If Shiro had less to deal with, Matt would bug him about it.  But that wasn’t going to happen until they were safely off this shitty planet and back into open space.

Checking the clock on his pad again, Matt sighed.  Nearly 40 minutes, now.

Actually, did Shiro even realize how long it had been?  He’d had kind of a glazed look when he came in, and Matt knew from painful experience that when one’s mind wasn’t in the moment, time tended to be elusive at best.

Ah, hell.  Why didn’t he think of this twenty minutes ago?

Standing, Matt pulled out his bag, stuffed with first aid supplies.  Then he walked to the bathroom door.

“What are you doing?” Lance asked.  His tone was easy, but his eyes were sharp.

Matt rattled the bag.  “Checking in.  And it’s time to change the bandages on his chest too.”

Which was the truth, but it was pretty much an excuse.  Whatever.  Matt was going to take any advantage he could get.

“Good thinking,” Coran murmured.  Next to him, Dad nodded thoughtfully, though his eyes were a bit too knowing for Matt’s comfort.  

Knocking on the door, Matt waited a few seconds.  There was no response.  “Shiro?”  He knocked again, louder.  Still nothing.

Well, he didn’t say no.  

...Eugh, skeevy thought.

Twisting the doorknob, Matt stuck his head in.  Shiro was curled in front of the toilet, head covered by his hands and barely moving.  Matt could hear his breathing clearly all the way over here.

He stepped in and closed the door quietly behind him.  Then he knocked on the counter.  “Shiro.”  This time, Shiro jolted and looked up, but his eyes didn’t focus on Matt, not really.

It took him several seconds, but Shiro finally really looked at him.  “Matt?  Need something?”

“Nope,” Matt chirped, deliberately easy, like there was nothing wrong on the world.  “Time for Doctor Matt to see to you.”  When Shiro only blinked at him in confusion, Matt tapped his own chest.  “Claw marks?  Lion warrior?  Who knows where Kitty’s claws have been, so I want to disinfect you again and change out those bandages.”

Shiro nodded slowly. “Oh.  Yeah.”  From his distracted tone, Matt had no idea if he actually remembered, or if he was just going along with it.  But he pulled off the ugly, gaudy shirt that Maros had given him, then turned to face Matt.

And Shiro must have been really out of it, or else the previous night had been one hell of an exposure therapy session, because he seemed utterly unbothered by his chest.

It was a shitty reason for it, but if it was one less thing for Shiro to care about, Matt wouldn’t mourn it.

Matt hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over Shiro’s chest.  Gently, he touched down.  Shiro blinked but didn’t otherwise react.

Okay, cool.  No attacking.  Not only did Matt really not want to be on the opposite side of Shiro in a panic attack induced strike, but that would just be more shit to deal with later.

Slowly, Matt peeled off the bandages.  And whatever the castle was stocked with was great, because already the claw marks were only slightly worse than scrapes.  Matt cleaned Shiro off and started to apply the correct goop.  “So.  Where are you?”

Shiro blinked, then his brow furrowed at the familiar words.  “Bathroom,” Shiro replied carefully, like he wasn’t sure it was the right answer.  “On Kratok.”

“Funny, that’s where I am too.  What a small universe.”  And that, miraculously, pulled a twitch of a smile out of Shiro.  Good.  “And, I’m going to forestall you, ‘cause you’re not gunna wanna talk about it with anyone.  Me and Dad nearly faced what you did, Allura and Coran are your alien pseudo commanding officers, and you’d rather pull out your molars than freak out at your team.  But if I pinky promise not to apologize, will you talk to me anyway?”

For a moment, Shiro seemed to be absorbing all that.  Then he sighed.  “Matt...”  But the groan sounded more together than he’d been the whole conversation, which was at least progress.  “It’s exactly what you expect.”

Matt shrugged.  “Hey, what I expect and what you expect might be very different, you know.  I’ve mostly been sitting in the nerd corner, so I’m missing the politics parties.  You don’t have to... if it’s gunna send you back down, tell me to fuck off.  But if you want to talk, I’ll listen, and I promise I can take a conversation.  Hell, if you wanna yell, I’m good for that too.  You know me, I like arguing.”

Cracking a smile again, Shiro nodded.  “Yes, you do.  I don’t know how many tiffs you dragged me into on the Kerberos mission.”  He was quiet for a moment, then sighed.  “Maros just wanted me alone, I think.  Osaha was an excuse..”  Shiro’s face slowly twisted, a vicious expression that didn’t look at home on his face.  “He wanted to remind me of all he’s done for me.  Patron wise.  The fights he rigged on my behalf.  It’s all set-up for him asking me to stay with him, no doubt.  He wants a trophy Champion.”

And that sent Shiro into the worst flashback Matt had seen him have yet, and that included the time they were both out of it while Matt tinkered with his arm.

“Yeah, if Maros wants that, he’ll have to fight me personally,” Matt replied, as light as he could manage.  “I mean, if you’re super into big hairy guys with attitude problems, that’s one thing, but otherwise I will cat fight him.”  Then he paused.  “Oh, hey, cat fight.  Didn’t even mean to do that.”

Shaking his head, Shiro snorted.  “Matt.”

“No, I’m serious!  I think I could take him.  I know how this works, you get the hyenas to turn on him once you  _ remember who you are.” _

This time, Shiro actually chuckled. “Matt!”

Pulling over the bandages, Matt just stuck out his tongue as he applied them.  “From the day we arrived on this planet, you know.  Blinking, we stepped into the sun.”

“It was night,” Shiro muttered.

Matt ignored him.  “There was more to be seen, then could ever be seen.  More to do than could ever be done.”

Finally, Shiro met his eyes.  “This is cruelty to your patient.  I’m reporting you for malpractice.”

“You and what board of ethics?” Matt shot back. He patted down the last bandage.  “Alright, you’re looking good now.  And also your bandages are on.  Eeey.”

“You’re ridiculous.”  Shiro stood, looking a little shaky on his feet but much more grounded.  “Am I free to go, doc?”

Matt shook his head and packed up his supplies.  “Nope.  One more thing.” Standing, he gently tugged on Shiro’s shoulder until he reluctantly stepped along, until they were both standing in front of a mirror.  “Okay, now...”

Shoving his hands under Shiro’s armpit, Matt tried to raise him.

Shiro did not move.

“Wait, no, I got this,” Matt grumbled, pulling again.

Twisting his head around, Shiro raised a brow.  “You want me to go up on my tiptoes when you shove?”

Matt considered.  “That would be nice, yes.”

Shaking his head, Shiro sighed.  “Alright.  Go.”

This time, they managed to make it look like Matt was lifting Shiro a couple of inches up.  

“Simbaaaa,” Matt intoned.

Shiro rolled his eyes, but he didn’t bother to hide his smile.  “Now you’re done?”

“Now I’m done.”

“Good.”  Shiro grabbed the shirt and pulled it back on, then turned to face Matt.  “Hey.  Thanks.”

Shrugging, Matt patted him on the shoulder.  “I know what it’s like.”

It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was damn close.  

Shiro nodded, gaze serious again.  Then he leaned forward, resting his head on Matt’s shoulder.  “Thanks anyway.  And, Matt?”

“Hm?”

Shiro paused.  “Hurry.”

Wrapping Shiro in his arms, Matt nodded.  “We will.  I swear.”

***

“Okay, so, do we want to add any more terms for today?” Katie had her pad out, their list of suggested searches typed up neatly on it.  “There was Haggar, Druids, Quintessence.  I’m eliminating Zarkon, now that I think about.  We’ll pull every damn report that say ‘Lord Zarkon’ in it and that’ll take years to sift through.”

“For now, I think those will turn up plenty,” Coran replied, combing idly through his mustache.  “We don’t want the search to take longer than we have tonight.”

That was the big fear.  Even these three could take too long, and they’d have to cut out before they got to the end and start again tomorrow.

But, well, they were all pushing for a faster timeframe.  At best, they had a couple more nights.  In practice, Matt wasn’t sure they had more than tomorrow.

“Alright, set it up,” Hunk suggested, sitting down with a sigh.  “If something happens and we have to cut and run in the morning, I think that’ll be enough.”

Coran nodded, a little brighter from the perspective.  “Yes, that’ll be valuable information we lacked before, it’s true.  No matter what the results, it’ll be...”  He paused, making a face.

If Matt had to guess, Coran had been about to say it was worth it.

And maybe some people thought it was.  Shiro was certainly in that camp.

For Matt, none of this nonsense was even close to worth it.  Unless they found something game changing, he could just as well toss these stupid consoles into space.

...Well, okay, no.  Matt valued information, and he wanted to know.  He was dying to know all the juicy information a universe spanning empire probably had.  But he wasn’t exactly in the right mood to appreciate it.

Katie nodded and activated the program.  When Coran reached for her pad, she handed it over, leaving him to pan the results as they started to pop up.

And then they waited.

Settling back against one of the consoles they’d gutted, Matt stared across the room at a wall.  Hopefully, it would look like he was zoning out (in a healthy way, fingers crossed).

Really, he was watching Katie and Hunk out of the corner of his eyes.

It wasn’t a surprise that they tended to stick together and talk during downtimes.  They had a lot of mutual projects, and they were peers and fellow paladins.

What was unusual was the way they kept whispering.  It set off all kinds of alarm bells in Matt’s head, because a quiet Katie was a Katie up to something.

And this close, when he was silent and still, Matt could just barely hear them.

“I almost think we should tell him earlier,” Katie murmured, voice quiet.

Hunk started and stared at her.  “About... are you serious?  Why?”

Shrugging, Katie frowned.  “Well, you heard him earlier.  ‘Think about who you’re calling irredeemable’ or however it went.  Maybe it would help?  Like, he doesn’t have to worry that we think about him differently, ‘cause we already know.”

Hunk paused, and seemed to be thinking about it.  “I think it’d help later,” he replied.  “But right now it’s only going to make things harder.  He’s going to need time to process.  It’ll be a... a real life retcon.  He’s gunna have to relook at everything.”

“No he doesn’t,” Katie replied stubbornly.  “Nothing’s changed.”

But Hunk just raised his brows, frowning at her until she scowled and looked away.

Okay.  What the hell were they talking about?  Tell him what?  

“You’re right.  But it’ll take time to get there.”  Hunk sighed and scrubbed over his face.  “It’s never been a good time for it.  We’ll have to make one.”

Katie snorted.  “There’s been good times.  We just never wanted to say.”  She curled up tighter, and looked frankly miserable.  

And Matt couldn’t watch his sister suffer like that.  Never could, and definitely wasn’t going to start now that she’d snuck her way into space to find him.

Standing up, Matt walked over and sat down in front of them, legs crossed.  The move was abrupt enough that they both started and shared a guilty look.

Really, they kind of sucked at this.  How the hell had Katie managed to pose as a fake identity for months?

“Alright, fess up.  What happened?”

Still look at each other rather than Matt, Hunk frowned.  “Um.  Nothing.  Just having a chat.”

Matt’s brow rose, staring them both down.  “I’m serious.  I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to tell somebody about something.  Whatever it is, it’s gunna be a shitshow.  So c’mon, I’ll give you my professional advice.  I’m an expert at doing stupid shit and getting out of it.”

“That’s for sure,” Katie muttered.

Hunk chewed his bottom lip, and glanced back at Coran.  He was still absorbed with the pad, and they had about twenty minutes before someone would need to switch out.  Until then, he’d be nice and distracted. 

Frowning, Hunk looked to Kaite.  “Should we?”

She tapped her fingers on the floor, clearly considering.  “You already know something,” Katie muttered.  “I guess it’s too late.”

“Probably,” Matt agreed.  “If you don’t tell me I’ll find out later.  All of you four are part of it, and I’ll wring it out of someone.  At the rate you’re all going, the secret will be out soon anyway.  You didn’t even check if I could hear.”

Katie scowled.  “You looked like you were daydreaming, and you were across the room.”  But she sighed and nodded.  “Fine.  Okay.  We...”  She made a face and looked away.

Seriously, what the hell was going on?

“Um, so, you know how Pidge digs through all kinds of files, when we get a chance?” Hunk started.  “Well, it started a few months ago, now.”

Katie noddd.  “A month or so before the thing with the arm chip.  Maybe more.  I was looking for data on you guys still.  No one really questioned when I was doing with all the information I was pulling, and I could, you know, look at whatever I wanted.”

“Sounds like a disaster,” Matt drawled.  They both winced. Uh-oh.  “What’d you find?”

They both went quiet again, and Katie stilled completely, a sure sign she was trying not to fidget guiltily.  “Well, I, uh... I found some videos.  Of Shiro.  In the ring.”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

That would do it.

“I’m guessing that went over well.”  When they both looked away, Matt frowned.  “How did Shiro react?”

Not quite meeting his eyes, Hunk shrugged. “We never told him.  There was... We didn’t want to upset him, you know?  And there was a lot.  He’d want to watch it, and we knew it would only set him off.”

“Hunk and Lance only watched one match,” Katie interjected, head ducked but shoulders set.  “They should we should stop, but I had already seen a bunch and Keith wanted to watch the rest with me.”

Matt shook his head slowly. “How much is a bunch?  Before and after?”

“A couple of hours on each side,” Katie muttered.

Hours.   _ Hours _ of fights.  And Matt knew exactly how those fights ended.

They’d seen Shiro kill dozens of times.

Shit.  Shit shit  _ shit.   _ No fucking wonder they were so calm when they saw him snap a few weeks ago.

And when Shiro found out...

Oh, jeez.

Scrubbing over his face, Matt took a deep breath.  “Give me a second,” he managed. If he hadn’t needed saving-

Nope, not going down that road.  Useless what ifs.  PTSD talking.  Shut up, brain.

“Okay.  Okay, so you... you watched all this footage.  First of all,  _ why?” _

Katie scowled at the floor.  “I wanted to know what you’d be going through, if you got sent back.”

Damn.  Well, that hamstrung all of Matt’s objections.

Well, not all of them.  “Hours worth, though?”

There was only stony silence

“And then what?” Matt managed, finally dropping his hands into his lap.  “So, you saw that.  Or didn’t, whichever.  Then you did what with it?”

Hunk shrugged.  “We locked it up.  It’s behind, like, five firewalls.  If you gave Shiro a few months to crack it, I think he’d know enough to do it, but it’s not like he has any reason to look for it, or the time.”

Well, there was that, at least.  Matt nodded slowly.  “Okay.  Good.  At least he wasn’t going to stumble on it.”

“Of course not!” Katie snapped, then winced and looked at Coran.  He eyed them, one brow up, but then went back to the pad.  “Do you think we’re stupid?”

Matt gave her flat look.  “No, I think you just violated Shiro’s privacy to all hell, knowing he’d hate every second of it, and then hid it for months.  And then I think you held back knowledge of his year from him for just as long, knowing full well he was struggling with it.”

The flat response made them both wince, and Hunk’s eyes filled with tears.

Dammit.

“Look, I’m... God, that was fucking  _ stupid. _  But when you found it, I guess it was too late by then.  And I get why you hid it.  Dropping that at breakfast would probably be weird.”  Matt pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Now, too.  Especially after all this.”

What was the best option?

Matt had  _ no fucking clue. _

But maybe he could farm it out to someone who did.

“Okay, my advice is to keep your mouths shut for now.  You’re right that this is a bad time.  But... talk to Dad.  Let him make the call.  He’ll have the best idea of what to do.”

Katie blinked slowly, shoulders relaxing.  “That’s not a bad idea.  I’m surprised we didn’t think of it.”

Shrugging, Matt sighed.  “Yeah, well, you guys are all used to shouldering shit without thinking about asking for help.  That’s clear enough.  Considering the past few months, I guess we can’t expect anything else.”  He snorted, the sound bitter. His head still felt too light from the revelation, and his mind was jumping ahead, re-evaluating every conversation, trying to find some clues that they’d seem so much of Shiro’s days as the Champion.

And if he was doing it, what was Shiro going to do?

Ah, man, this was going to  _ suck. _

“Thanks,” Hunk murmured, eyes still on the floor.  “For trying to help.”

“Trying my ass. I  _ will  _ help.  It was a shitty situation.  I’m mad, but I’m more mad that you had to stumble across it.”  Matt slid his glasses back on.  “But you all  _ really _ need to relax, too.  Because it’s only a matter of time before Shiro notices, and I don’t think you guys will hold up from a real interrogation.”

Katie frowned darkly but nodded.  “Maybe,” she allowed.  “But it’s not like-”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Coran called.  “I’m not sure what’s gotten you all so serious, but I think you need to see this.”

Goddammit.  What the hell else had gone wrong today?

Groaning, Matt pulled himself to his feet and lamented that his knees ached from just sitting on the floor for a few minutes.  He wished it was just him getting too old for this shit, and not that he’d worn his body out as a prisoner.  Then he walked over to Coran and started to read over his shoulder, skimming.

Haggar... Quintessence... experiments...planet... harvest.

...Wait,  _ what? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild Matt appears! 
> 
> Alright, now we'll be spending the next several chapters in Shiro's head, so go ahead and get comfy.
> 
> ...I suppose 'comfy' isn't the word. Hm. Ah, well.


	9. The Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a note, this chapter contains moments that reflect abusive language and manipulations. Please be careful if this may be an issue for you.

The silence of the room was oppressive.

Shiro ran his fingers through his hair, taking slow, deep breaths.  If anything about this was useful, it was that his own problems now felt very, very dwarfed.  Perspective.

That was about it for good news.

Coran sat down heavily and passed a pad to Allura, who scanned through it.

“We’re not sure how many planets the Galra have drained,” Coran informed them.  “Some of the details we couldn’t access.  They were behind higher security ranks than these consoles have.  But the ones we do... it’s several.”

Sam cleared his throat.  “And what happens to these planets?  I understand that Quintessence is powerful and important, but I’m not sure I fully understand what it is.”

Tapping his fingers on the table, Lance frowned.  “It’s like.. Life force.  Spirit.  It’s affected by your personality.  Or your personality is affected by it?  I’m not sure how that goes.”

“That’s an age old question,” Coran told Lance.  “There’s no good answer.  But for now...” He nodded to Sam, then sighed.  “For now, think of it as a form of energy, like heat or light.  It’s something naturally occurring in living things.  We produce it.  And so when Quintessence is drained, we can’t sustain ourselves anymore.”

Keith frowned.  “Planets can have energy too.  Like the Balmera.”

“Well, the Balmera was a creature,” Hunk pointed out.  “Just a really big one.”

Sighing, Allura put down the pad and passed it along.  Shiro took it and shoved it to Sam without looking.  He couldn’t.  Not right now.  He’d make himself later, but for now he needed to _breathe_.  When he glanced over at Allura, her eyes were narrowed and bright.  

“It is true, though.  Planets often have Quintessence of their own. It’s not as much as a living creature, but...”  Allura shook her head.  “It’s a complicated topic.  We don’t have time to get into it.  But this is... this isn’t just a cruel mining method.  It’s a way to kill an entire planet in minutes.”

Matt curled up in his chair, forehead on his knees.  “And gain resources.  Tons of it.  The stuff they powered with the little bits of Quintessence... huge machines, with complex computers.”  Pidge moved her chair closer, and they leaned into each other.

It was a bottomless well of terrible news.  Every time Shiro’s brain started to examine one thought, another would rise up.  The Galra would never run low on Quintessence.  They could kill any planet rising against them in minutes.  They _knew where Earth was._

Which they knew because of Shiro.

“That’s what Keith found,” Shiro murmured.  “On the trade station.  All those gallons and gallons of energy.  It was from planets.”

Keith groaned.  “That explains why that whole place was so secret.  And why there was a Druid there.  They were protecting it, or maybe testing it.  We just happened to find it.”  He stared down at his hand, opening and closing the palm.

“Do we know what they can do, now?” Sam asked.  “I know Quintessence supply was limited on our planet, but I didn’t get the feeling that it was a resource they were lacking, before.”  His tone was... not bright, but calm.  Trying to drag everyone out of the downward spiral and to think logistically.

What Shiro should be doing, in short.  

Okay, it was time to buck up.

“It can be used to make weapons,” he pointed out.  “My arm uses Quintessence.  So did Sendak’s.  But that’s limited to what Haggar and her druids could make.  I’m not sure that can be mass produced.  Still, if supply is up, they could apply it to other machines, like the drones.”

Allura nodded.  “Or it could be used to give ships upgrades.  The crystals work off Quintessence.  With more of it, they can do more.  We’d see faster ships with greater capacity.”

“But even with that, could any of them withstand Voltron?” Lance pointed out.  “I mean, in numbers, yeah, but I never got the feeling we were particularly hampered by a single warship’s defenses.”  

Hunk considered it.  “Those cannons could be a problem for Voltron and the Castle of Lions.  Ion cannon blasts already do a lot of damage.  But I’m not sure how much extra Quintessence would affect that.  Is it linear?  Exponential?”

“That’s probably in the data,” Matt replied, finally picking his head up.  “The Galra have had millennia to test that.  We already downloaded everything we could find, it’ll be simple to find those experiments.  Relatively.”

Sam nodded.  “So it sounds like we should look into that first.”

Closing his eyes, Shiro nodded.  “This is bad news.  But I’m not sure it affects our mission personally, at this point.  Even if Zarkon is getting planets worth of Quintessence, he still has to make changes to the infrastructure of a universe spanning empire.  In terms of scale, it’s more than we would ever want them to have in that short of a time, but it’s still not much compared to the universe.”

There was the hint of relaxation around the table.  Yes, it was bad news, but it wasn’t going to change everything immediately.  It had been happening for a while and it hadn’t made any differences that they’d noticed, after all.

Well, as far as Shiro could tell.

“Shipping alone takes ages,” Matt pointed out.  “Especially among the smaller ships that can’t support wormhole travel as well.  The Galra strongholds will be seeing a boost now, but everywhere else might not see a difference for years.”

Keith crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.  “Which means the biggest problem is how this can be used as a weapon.”  

Leaning back in his chair, Shiro glanced at the pad, which had made it’s way back around to Hunk.  “Do we know exactly how they do this?  What resources does it take them?”

“In all cases, they’ve only used one ship,” Pidge replied.  “I’m not sure if it’s just because that’s where the Druids are or if that ship has special equipment.  If I had to guess from the language, I’d say it’s the only one that can use it for now.  And it takes several Druids, but I’m not sure what their total numbers are.”

Coran ran his thumb over his mustache.  “Not many, from my understanding.  Around ten?”

“So at most, two ships.  Unless the Druids really start recruiting.”  Lance nodded.  “Okay, so, it’s bad, but it’s Death Star bad.  They can only do specific targets at a time.”

Matt’s brows rose.  “Wonder if it has a large vent system.”

“So long as no one turns off their targeting systems,” Pidge muttered.

Coran and Allura shared a baffled look, so Shiro held up a hand.  “Alright, alright.  We’ll worry about training in the Force later.  For now, what do we do?”

“Tell everyone,” Allura declared, standing up and bracing her hands on the table.  “We tell _everyone._  No one can agree with this.  No one wants the Galra to have a weapon that strips a planet of life in minutes.  This is our way of starting a rebellion.”

Silence reigned again.

“Are we sure about that?” Hunk asked slowly.  “I mean, yeah, we should tell everyone, but the knowledge doesn’t exactly make me want to jump up and punch a Galra officer, you know?”

Allura’s eyes burned brightly as he met Hunk’s gaze.  “There’s no alternative.  If the Galra have this, they’ll use it.  They were always a threat to the universe at large, but now they’re a threat to every living being in the universe.  No one can side with them at this point.”

As much as Shiro had his doubts about that, he kept his mouth shut. Allura was right that they needed to tell as many people as they could, if only so as many people as possible could be prepared and keeping an eye out for the weapon.  And she knew political maneuvering better than he did, after all.

What Shiro understood was hopelessness.  How something that big couldn’t mean anything, because his small problems were so much to deal with.  Who cared what superweapon the Galra had when all you wanted was to survive to the next meal?

But the people of Kratok weren’t like that.  They had the resources and time to worry about something larger.

Shiro just wasn’t sure they would bother.

“I think we can spin it,” Lance agreed, looking up at Allura hopefully. “We can make it work, if we say it right.”  Glancing at Keith, he took a deep breath.  “Did you find out anything?”

Shaking his head, Keith sighed.  “No.  I trailed those representatives around as best I could.  I didn’t find out what they wanted or who they have sway over.  Either they’re not very popular, or I just had bad timing.  Mostly they were doing paperwork.”

Brow furrowed, Shiro frowned.  “You followed Selmak and Anise?  When?”

“Today,” Keith replied simply, head tilted.  

Shiro turned to look at Allura, then at Keith.  “I thought we were lying low.”  When had this happened?

Blinking at him, Allura slowly sat back down.  “We were hoping to have a better understanding of the political landscape, on this planet,” she replied.  Each word sounded carefully chosen.  “As Maros said, one human is unlikely to attract attention, especially when dressed appropriately for the planet.  We’re more likely to be recognized as a group than a single being.”

Nodding, Shiro forced himself to relax and took a deep breath.  “Ah.  I understand.”

And he did.  It wasn’t a bad call.

He just didn’t like that it had gone over his head.  That he’d missed it.

Shiro had been so absorbed with Maros that he’d let things get so out of control.  He didn’t have it in him to be upset at Allura for taking over, but it brought into focus how badly he was fumbling.

“What I did do was follow Osaha,” Keith continued on, tone bland.  “And I’m pretty sure she’s going to be a problem.”

Pidge snorted.  “Was she not already one?  Considering the attempted murder and all.”  But a sharp look from Shiro quelled further comment, and she leaned back, arms crossed.

“A problem how?” Matt asked, leaning forward on the table.  He was blinking slowly, and Shiro remembered that the tech team still hadn’t slept.  That would need to be remedied soon.

“She’s twitchy and angry,” Keith replied.  “And it’s like... when you don’t want to meet someone’s eyes, because you’re not sure what way they’re going to go that minute.  On the edge of something bad.”

Shiro took a deep breath and reminded himself that Keith would not appreciate a hand on his shoulder right now.

Tilting his head, Coran frowned.  “Well, we shouldn’t spend too much time with her, so hopefully it won’t be a problem.  I don’t recall her being... this is badly phrased, but important.”

“Maros doesn’t listen to her,” Sam confirmed.  “She doesn’t seem to have much sway, even as someone who lives in the castle.”

Lance snorted.  “Maros doesn’t listen to _anyone._  But I don’t think anyone else would listen to Osaha either.”

“So long as we keep our distance, I don’t believe we have much to worry about,” Allura told Keith.

“Shiro might not have a choice,” Keith pointed out.

When eyes drifted to him, Shiro only shrugged.  “I’ll be around Maros then.  And she won’t try and hurt me in front of him.  For now, she’s probably not the best use of our focus.”  But he nodded to Keith and offered a smile.  “But thank you.”

The logic of it seemed to soothe Keith, if a bit reluctantly.

“So. What now?” Hunk asked.  “Like, we know we want to talk to people.  Where do we start?”

“As much as I don’t want to,” Allura began thoughtfully.  “I think we need to speak with Maros.”

***

“Okay,” Maros said, brows up.

Allura’s eyes widened, and then hardened.  “Just okay?”

Blinking slowly, like he had no idea why Allura was continuing to press him, Maros tilted his head.  “I thank you for sharing the information you gained, as you promised.”  Then he stared her down.  Clearly, he felt he’d done his part in the exchange, and that she was being a bother.

“Did you already know about this?” Shiro asked, brow furrowed.  “It was news to us.”

That earned Shiro a bland look too.  Maros sat down and wrapped his robes around himself.  Today, he was dressed up even more than usual.  Every movement caused the jewels and metals in his mane to _clink_ together.  There were no less than three layers to his outfit, and in the heating of the building, Shiro had no idea how he wasn’t burning up.

Finally, Maros flapped a hand at them.  “No, I hadn’t heard.  That’s not the sort of thing the Galra share.  But I don’t see why it matters.  The Galra have always had many ways of attacking.  This is just one more.”

And if they needed any proof that Maros’ heart wasn’t in the rebellion plans, this was it.  Or he was a complete idiot.  But more likely, he just wasn’t thinking about ever facing the Galra on bad terms.

Well, that wasn’t a surprise.  It was annoying, though.

“You’re not afraid the Galra will use this on you?” Keith pointed out, leaning forward against the table, palms flat.  “They’d kill everyone.”

Maros nodded.  “Yes.  But the Galra would never attack us with something like this.  We’re a manufacturing planet, they need us.”

That was....

So small.  

“There are others,” Allura pointed out, with the determination of a bulldog gripping a bone.  “Many planets offer manufacturing.  That doesn’t mean the Galra won’t destroy them.”

Maros shrugged one shoulder, like Allura was a bug flying round his ear.  “Yes, but we’re the best.  And it would be such a bother.  They wouldn’t.”

And he stared at them all, gaze clear and easy, not a single ruffled strand a fur.

Maros believed what he was saying.  With all his heart.  Or else he was so firmly, deeply in denial that he could ever be in danger that the threat didn’t even register.

Sitting down heavily, Allura stared at Maros in utter disbelief.  It was clear she had no idea how someone could look at a weapon of destruction and think ‘it’s probably not going to be used on me, so I don’t care’.

Shiro idly wondered if growing up surrounded by people like her father and the paladins (or most of the paladins) had affected Allura’s world view.

“Well, I think this is still important information to share,” Lance said, speaking up for the first time.  “The other representatives on the council will appreciate being informed.”

Maros’ brows rose.  “And how do you suggest I tell them I came across this information?”

“I’m sure you have sources,” Keith replied, voice darkening.  “You spend a lot of time and money on the Galra Empire.  It makes sense that you’d hear something.”

Seeming to miss the tone entirely, Maros nodded thoughtfully.  “That is true.  I do have my ear to the ground, you know.  I’ve made some very savvy decisions in the past because of it.  It pays to hear about the waves of the universe before they crash on you.”

There was a pause, while they waited for him to continue.  “So you’ll tell them?” Allura asked, voice hard.

“I’m sure it’ll come up eventually,” Maros replied casually.  “But tomorrow’s meeting isn’t about the Galra at all, and it’s not like a warship is floating above us.”

“Tomorrow’s meeting?” Shiro’s brows rose in interest.  “What meeting?”

Maros blinked at them in open shock.  “The council will be in session tomorrow.” When they all continued to stare, he snorted.  “Why do you believe Selmak and Anise were here in the first place?  They certainly didn’t travel here for visitors they weren’t supposed to know existed.”

Damn, that was actually a good point.  Shiro hadn’t considered that at all.

“Would we be able to speak to them again today?” Allura continued, pressing on.  “We left on questions that they were planning to answer.”

Maros shook his head.  “I doubt they’re available.  There’s all kinds of meetings and deals going on now.  The usual scuffle before any sets of votes.  I can pass on the message, but if you get so much as five minutes, I’ll be shocked.”

Yeah, he wasn’t going to pass on that message.  Not at all.

Glancing over, Shiro met Allura’s eyes and nodded.  She smiled grimly back.

This was something they’d have to take into their own hands.  And he’d tell the tech team to do everything they could tonight, because he didn’t think they’d get another day, after this.

Either they’d be running, or they’d have a full scale rebellion on their hands. Shiro was hoping for the later, but he’d prepare for the former.

“Is this all?” Maros asked again, sounding bored.  “I have the same preparations as Selmak and Anise, and I’ve already given you more time than I should have.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Lance replied, in nearly an identical tone to the one he used to try to build up to flirting.  While it didn’t work on the average girl, the flattering tone seemed to work on Maros.  

They would really make a political animal out of Lance, someday.  Once he had a bit more experience under his belt.  Because Lance, more than any of them, really understood wanting the things these people did.  Lance wanted cheers and regard, if in a vague way.  He wanted tangible results.

It didn’t make him like beings like Maros.  He was still Lance, and fundamentally a sweet person.  But he was able to understand their language better than someone like Hunk, who tended to be deeply moralistic.  If you crossed Hunk’s lines, he wasn’t even willing to speak with you.

Lance could speak with those people and convince them they’d get what they wanted from joining.  Or, at least, he would be able to someday.

And if that failed, they’d just like Keith punch them, and Pidge hack them.

Shiro wasn’t sure here he fell into this.  But he didn’t need to, really.  It felt right that they had their bases covered.

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Allura replied, and very nearly made it sound polite.  “I wish you luck in your preparations.”

Maros waved a dismissive hand a them, and then paused over Shiro.  “Champion, if you could wait a moment.”

Damn. Shiro closed his eyes for just a moment, then met Maro’s gaze.  “Your Highness?  I thought you needed time to prepare.”

“I need your answer before I can proceed,” Maros replied plainly, brows up.  “The rest of you may go, though.”

Allura frowned, then met Shiro’s eyes.  “We’ll wait for you outside.”  And then she left before Maros could object, Lance and Keith on her heels.

Warmth bloomed in Shiro’s chest, though guiltily. They were already beginning to plan the end, so a small chance of discovery wasn’t as big a threat.  But it still made Shiro feel nice that Allura was willing to risk it, to make sure Maros sped things up and didn’t keep him.

Huffing, Maros shook his head.  But then he focused on Shiro again, eyes direct.  “Have you thought about what I said?”

“Not as much as I wanted to,” Shiro replied. “The news came as a shock, and we were focused on that for most of the night.”  Which was true, at least.

But Maros rolled his eyes.  “Goodness, don’t let them infect you with their paranoia.  Honestly, all this talk of spiritual essence and superweapons.  As if we’d ever actually see that, assuming they even continue to use it.”  He shook his head.  “Keep your head clear, Champion.  There are things that deserve your attention far more.”

“Such as?” Shiro asked, as politely as he could manage.

Maros gestured for Shiro to come closer, and he did, slow and reluctant.  Then Maros placed his hand under Shiro’s jaw, tilting his head up.  “You aren’t built for this, Champion.  For this running around and the paladin ridiculousness.  You’re meant for more.  I’ve seen it, and now they have too.  That’s why they’re so nervous of you, you know.  They won’t let you out of their sight. It’s because they’ve seen what you are, and they know where you belong.”

Shiro’s mouth went dry.

“You are the Champion.  It’s not just a title.  You’re still the Champion now, even after you left.  And you had reason to.  The way they treated you... it was fine for the one or two fight disappointments they usually throw into the arena.  But not someone like you.  You need more.  And I can give it to you.  They fear you.  They fear what you are.  But I appreciate it.”

Shiro’s hands were shaking.  When had that started?  He clenched them hard and wished he was wearing something with pockets, so he could hide them.

Maros smiled at him, so gentle and understanding.  “What do you think, Champion?”

“I have to consider,” Shiro replied, mouth on autopilot.  “There are certain advantages being a paladin offers me.”

“Anything you do there, I can match,” Maros replied, nearly bored.  “There’s nothing for you there.  You were made for that arena.  It’s obvious, from the way you move and the way you think.  There’s nothing you can do as a paladin that will suit you as well.  Let’s them move on and find someone else to fill that slot.  You have a different purpose.”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro closed his eyes.  “I’ll consider it.  I can’t give an answer right away.”

Maros gave a noise like a growl.  “I’ll speak with you later.  I don’t have time to waste on your fantasies.  Go, then.  But you know the truth as well as I do.”

Nodding rather than speak, Shiro turned on his heel - robotic, stiff, militaristic - and then marched for the door.

True to their words, Allura, Lance and Keith were waiting for him.  And when they looked him over, they looked worried.

It wasn’t like that.  It wasn’t what Maros said.

“What did he say?” Allura asked, brow furrowed.  “You’re pale.”

Nervous.

They were nervous of him.

No, this was- Shiro was trying to see when he was digging into one of these mental ruts.  He was trying to recognize the truth.

“The offer,” Shiro replied, and he heard his voice as though someone else said it.  “Nothing we didn’t expect.”

“Well, he can’t have you,” Lance replied.  “You’re not really going to stay here, are you?  In this place?  Eugh.”

No.  He wasn’t.  Shiro wasn’t going to spend another second on this planet if he could help it.

But that didn’t mean Maros didn’t have a point.

“C’mon,” Lance continued.  “We’d better get back soon.  We’ve got today to plan, so let’s take advantage.”

Shiro nodded and followed after.  His eyes didn’t stay in place, though, tracking nervously between them all.

He met Keith’s eyes.

Keith glanced away, staring at his shoes instead.  He looked guilty and uncomfortable.  He had since that first night, really.

They all had.

A tremor ran through Shiro, and he clenched his hands again, forcing his breath to stay steady and controlled.

They’d seen him.  They’d seen what he’d become.

Now he had to deal with them knowing.


	10. The Fight

Shiro was losing track of time.

That was getting increasingly, painfully obvious.

When the tech team had left for what could well be their final night, Shiro had stumbled into that little broom closet of a library, just to take a moment to breathe.  He’d expected to spend maybe 30 minutes there, just getting his thoughts in order.   Reminding himself that Maros was wrong, that he was overreacting, that they weren’t scared of him.

Instead, it had turned into a greatest hits replay of the memories he’d regained over the past few days, blending together until he didn’t remember what happened and in what order.  

_ Muzzled in the arena, standing on a platform, his arms bound behind him.  His arm broken, the bone jutting through, he could see it though it wasn’t in front of him.  The vine alien - the vine child, looking younger each minute.  Screaming, crying out, tortured.  “My parents!” _

_ Maros stood just beyond the alien, lips curled up, dressed as a Druid.  “Consider this my Favor.  I find myself indulging you.  Are you thankful?” _

_ No. No no no. _

_ “Yes,” said Shiro’s voice, calm and low.  Pleased.  Monstrous.  “I am thankful.” _

Shiro shook his head hard, trying to knock himself back into reality.  Kratok.  Library.  Shelves.  He tried to read the titles of the books, but it was in a script he didn’t recognize.

At least it wasn’t in Galran.

Standing, Shiro took a deep breath to try and control the shivers running through him. It wasn’t cold here.  Not inside, anyway.  When Shiro looked out the windows during the day, he could see the landscape covered in a bare dusting of snow.

Sounds outside the door suddenly caught his attention, and Shiro stepped out to see.  He spotted Hunk leaning against the hallway wall, headband off and head back.  

“Needed a breather?” Shiro asked.

Hunk glanced at him and nodded, offering a thin smile.  “Yeah.  A little bit to clear my head before bed.  We spent the night looking up- well, some stuff that wasn’t fun to look at. So I’m trying to prevent nightmares.”

Wait.  Before bed?  Shiro blinked slowly.  “I thought you guys were going to spend the whole night at it.  Or are you trading off today?”

Brow furrowing, Hunk pushed off the wall and stared at Shiro.  “No, we did.  It’s morning now.”

What?  No, they’d just left.  It hadn’t even been an hour.

Or, Shiro had thought.

“Are you okay?” Hunk asked quietly.  “When was the last time you slept, Shiro?”

Well, Shiro had thought it was a couple of days ago, but now he wasn’t sure anymore.

Biting his bottom lip, Shiro shook his head.  “Don’t worry about it.”

Hunk stared at him.  “Easier said than done, you know.  Seriously, we’re worried for you.”

Thinking back to all the strange behavior, the avoided glances, and the nervous chatter over the past few days, Shiro nodded.  Then he tried to smile.  “I know.”  He didn’t manage to make it sincere.

Hunk looked like Shiro had tried to punch him.  Slowly, his expression fell in on itself.

Shoulders slumping, Shiro sighed.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Yeah, you did,” Hunk replied, voice rough.  “We haven’t been very... Matt was right, I guess.  Look, we’ll talk after we’re out of here, okay?  But for now, just... it’s been hard for everyone.  It’s not you.  And we  _ are _ worried.”

“I know you are,” Shiro repeated, and this time he meant it.  “I’m just on edge.  One more day.”

Hunk nodded.  “Yeah.  Just one more.  No more of these all-nighters, too.  I’m exhausted.  But, hey, we can do a better job fixing up your arm after this, so that’s nice.”

Pausing, Shiro tilted his head.  “What?”  What did his arm have to do with this?

For a moment, Hunk just blinked.  “Oh, right.  Maybe I shouldn’t have- well.  Well, when we were searching through Haggar’s data earlier we found a lot on how she builds these things and what goes into them.  Yours and others.  We have the schematics for Sendak’s arm too, actually.”

Curling his arm against his chest, Shiro frowned.  “My arm specifically?”

“Kind of,” Hunk replied, and he pulled in on himself just a little.  “Some.  Mostly it’s general.” With each word, his voice got tighter.

_ Consider this my Favor. _

“Okay,” Shiro managed, voice flat.  “When we get back to the ship we’ll decide what to do.”

They were going to get it off.

Shiro needed the arm  _ gone. _  He didn’t want to be indulged, didn’t want any Favor, didn’t want to be reminded what a monster he was, the patchwork of his skin and body.

Frowning, Hunk looked over Shiro’s face.  “Sounds like a plan.  You just... remember that we love you, okay?”

“I love you guys, too.”  Moving on autopilot, he ruffled Hunk’s hair.  It still looked strange without the headband.

Hunk nodded slowly.  “Good.  Try to get some sleep?  We’ve got a couple of hours.”

Smiling and feeling like he was going to fall back and never hit the ground, Shiro nodded.  “I’ll try, so long as you do the same.  There’s nothing to worry about.  I’m not there, anymore.”

Probably.

Darting forward, Hunk wrapped his arms around Shiro, holding him tightly.  But he let go just as quickly.  “Good night.”

“Good night.”  

Then Hunk slipped into his room, and Shiro was left to wonder if the ache in his chest was from the strength of the contact or because he felt like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

***

Shiro never went back to his room.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent outside in the hallway, staring into the gloom.  Part of it was that he didn’t bother to keep track, and part of it was that his brain didn’t seem capable of following the flow of time anymore.

But eventually, Shiro heard the floor creak.  And when he looked up, he saw two cat-like eyes gleaming out from the gloom.

Shiro’s heart jumped in his chest, and he snapped into a fighting stance automatically, hand lighting up both for attack and to see who it was.

Wincing from the sudden light, Osaha glared at him.

Slowly, Shiro started to relax.  “Did you need something?” He asked.

Osaha didn’t respond.  Instead, she pulled back her lips, showing off the sharp teeth in her muzzle, and her ears flattened against her head.  Her tail lashed angrily, casting odd purple shadows on the wall.

Somehow, Shiro didn’t think she was here on official business.

“Could not sleep,  _ Champion?” _ She finally murmured, spitting out his title.

Shiro only shrugged.  “Neither could you, I assume.”

“You should not have stayed,” was all she said.

And then Osaha pounced.

With his back to the wall, Shiro couldn’t move backwards, so instead he ducked into a roll, pushing off with his feet.  But the move meant he had to switch off the arm, for fear of burning out his own chest.  

Osaha must have landed near silently, because Shiro didn’t couldn’t hear her at all.  Standing back up, he shot his right arm out and lit it back up, trying to see where she’d gotten.

All he saw was a dark blur before he was slammed down to the floor.

The carpeting probably saved him from cracked ribs right there, but it also muffled the noise.  There was little more than a dull thump as they both crashed down.

Grabbing onto Shiro’s right arm, over the elbow, Osaha twisted it painfully up and over his head, shoving it into the floor against the joint.  Shiro jerked, trying to get free, but her other hand dug into his shoulder, right where she’d scratched the first time.  If it hadn’t been for Altean healing, the rough grip would have ripped the wounds right back open.

Shiro didn’t doubt it was on purpose.

“What are you doing?” He gasped, jerking to the side in an attempt to knock Osaha’s weight off of him.  “Get off!”

But Osaha only growled at him, her claws sinking deeper into his shoulder.  “You would have the Galra kill us.”

Folding in on himself, Shiro kicked up with his feet and rocked back, until he could shove one leg between them, then kicked his heel into her stomach.  There wasn’t enough room to give it real power, but it did lift her a couple of inches and gave Shiro the opportunity to twist away.  This time, Osaha yanked her hand back the second he started to work his way free, keeping herself from being burned again.

Panting, Shiro glanced down at his shoulder and winced when he saw the shirt ripped away and his skin covered by oozing dark liquid, shining purple in the poor lighting. 

Damn.

“The Galra kill planets and you want to get back at  _ us? _ ” Shiro snarled, voice pitched low.  He didn’t want to wake everyone else up if he could help it, just for whatever the hell had gotten into Osaha. He could handle this. After all, he’d beaten her before.

Tail lashing again, Osaha tilted her head.  “Maros told me what you said. You will go behind him.  When you tell the council, the Galra will know we sheltered you.  They will slaughter us.  You would still tell them?”

Shiro frowned.  “We can protect yo-”

She shook her head.  Then she lunged again.

But this time Shiro was ready for her, and he ducked down and to the right, out of the way.  Then he struck out with his foot just as she landed, aiming for the ankle.  It hit, and her balance wavered and gave, but rather than falling any other direction, she ended up on top of him.

In a pure, chaotic grapple, Shiro was at a nasty disadvantage.  He twisted under Osaha, never giving her a good target to grab onto, and kept his hand as close to her face as possible to blind her night vision.  But the pain in his shoulder was distracted, and he still didn’t want to fight her.  It was late, and everyone was sleeping, and he didn’t want to lose himself like last time.  He didn’t want to forget where he was.

But a lucky strike got her hand around Shiro’s jaw, and she was able to reel back and  _ hit. _

The impact of her huge hand against the side of Shiro’s face stunned him, just as it kicking her ear had done in their last fight.  The sounds fell away, replaced by a roar, and Shiro blinked hard as he tried to reorient himself.

Fight.  Grappling.  The shine of teeth and claws and eyes in the gloom, reflected in the light of his arm.

Pain.  Blood oozing down the side of his face.  He’d been clawed during the strike.

_ Fight. _

Any reservations about sound and holding back left as Shiro’s mind narrowed and focused on nothing but the opponent above him.

Shoving up, Shiro clawed at Osaha’s face with his right hand, his own lips drawn back in a snarl.  She grabbed onto his bicep and pinned it to the floor, but she was wary of it, especially when the carpeting below because to burn and smoke.  Wrapping his legs around her waist, Shiro  _ twisted _ to the left as far as he could, shoving her with all of his strength.  His muscles screamed, but the move was sudden and powerful enough that Osaha’s weight was shifted, no longer bearing down on him and knocking her off balance.

Then, Shiro planted both his hands into the carpeting and pushed off.  Under his normal strength it wouldn’t have moved her, but the Galra arm gave him more leverage, and he was able to push her the rest of the way to the ground.  With his legs still around her, he moved with it until he was straddling her chest.

Before she had even started to struggle, Shiro moved with the momentum, digging his fingers into the wall.  The plaster of it crumpled against the heat of the Galra energy, and flung the burning ashes into her eyes.

Osaha howled, loud and pained, and both her hands came up to cover her eyes out of sheer animal instinct.

Which left her open.

Reaching down with the Galra hand, Shiro wrapped his fingers around her throat.

The thick fur kept her from immediately burning, but she still shrieked and bucked wildly under him, claws lashing out instinctively.  She caught Shiro on the cheek and scrapped down the front of his face, but he rode the movements and pain, eyes wild as he watched the fur burn away.

Then, a door opened, and they were suddenly bathed in light.  “What’s goin- Shiro?”

Shiro flinched from the glare, eyes closing against his will.  And Osaha’s desperate flailing caught him again, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him sideways.  He hit the wall hard, head cracking on the impact.

While Shiro was still dazed from the combination, Osaha twisted and kicked out, snarling.  But his body reacted even while his head reeled, and he caught her foot in his hands.

The scream she let out could only be described as animal.

Same for the noise Shiro made as he pulled her closer and then  _ clawed _ .

Finally, Osaha laid still.  In the light from the open doors, Shiro could see that he’d racked lines down half her face, and that one of her eyes was gone.  Or, rather, no longer intact.  The other one glared at him, full of nothing but hatred.

“Shiro?”

Getting up to one knee, Shiro glanced up.

Hunk stood in the doorway, his eyes wide and his hand covering his mouth.  Next to him, Pidge stared with wide eyes, her mouth open in horror.

Oh.  Oh  _ no. _

And a door opened on the other side, and he heard Lance’s gasp and Keith’s curse.

Oh no oh no  _ oh no oh no. _

“Close the doors,” Shiro ordered, voice rough.  He blinked hard, and the world didn’t quite focus back properly.   _ “Now.” _

But Lance stepped forward, and Allura was just a half step behind him.  “What’s going on?  When did Osaha get here?”

And Shiro saw Osaha’s remaining eye fix on Lance, saw her teeth pull back and her ears flatten.  Saw her prepare to pounce, despite all her injuries.

She was still determined to kill them.  Not just Shiro.  Osaha would try and put them all down, in an effort to appease the Galra and save herself and Maros.  

Either she succeeded in killing the team, or the Galra would make an example of them for providing shelter and courting rebellion.  

Which meant there was only one thing he could do.

Shiro struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that's probably not good.


	11. The Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so.
> 
> Remember that content warning I've had up for the whole fic? About violence?
> 
> This chapter is why.

Shiro’s Galra hand sank into the side of Osaha’s head and then sliced through.

She hit the floor, eye open and unseeing.  The slice went from ear to muzzle, and started to ooze mixed grey and red.

A memory flashed behind Shiro’s eyes.

_ Shiro stood in the arena, breathing heavily as he watched his opponent squirm.  It was a creature this time, like a centipede made of whips and claws.  As he watched, it shrieked and yanked in the sword imbedded in its torso.  His own face was sticky with blood, oozing from the slice across his nose. _

_ The crowd bayed for more. _

_ “Kill it!  Finish it!” _

_ “Veprit Sa! Veprit Sa!” _

_ Stepping forward, Shiro grabbed the weapon and yanked.  Orange blood flecked over him, and the wound bleed freely, but it was survivable. He’d come back from worse wounds in the arena. _

_ Shiro stared up at the crowd and shook his head.  “Fight over.” _

_ The chanting turned furious. _

_ Prepared for this, Shiro set his shoulder and continued to glare at the crowd.  About now, a guard would come and punish him, but Shiro still refused.  He wouldn’t kill a downed opponent, because he wouldn’t let them turn him into- _

_ Wait, where was the guard? _

_ Shiro’s arm activated, beyond his control.  He stared down at it in horror as the hand snapped into a fighting position, dropping the weapon in the process. _

_ What?  Why... no.  No!  He wasn’t doing this.   _

_ But Shiro wasn’t in control. _

_ Even when he grabbed onto the elbow, tugging as hard as he could to stop it, there was nothing he could do. _

_ Instead, the arm drove itself forward into the creature’s head, splattering a mix of grey and orange all over Shiro. _

_ While the crowd watched. _

While everyone watched.

Diving forward, Shiro covered the sight with his body as best he could and just hoped it had been too fast for it to register.  “Get inside!” He barked, but it didn’t manage to come out like an order. It was too desperate, and his voice was too hoarse.  

“Lance, go back in,” Allura ordered, and Shiro couldn’t thank her enough.

“We’ve seen this before, we can help.” Keith shot back, and Shiro heard the sound of him coming closer.

But then he stopped, so suddenly he was probably grabbed.  “Both of you  _ back in.” _  Allura’s tone left no room for arguing.

“That goes for you two as well,” Coran added, as one door closed.  “Please.  This will all be easier if you’re not out here.”  

“But-”

Coran must have cut Pidge off somehow, because she stopped speaking.  “After.  For now, he won’t want you there.”  His voice was soft, and Shiro thought he probably wasn’t supposed to hear it.

Honestly, Shiro didn’t really think he was.  It was registering, but from far away.  His face was still ducked, his nose just a few inches from what was left of Osaha’s face.  Every breath was thick with blood and burned flesh and fur.

Gagging, Shiro curled up closer, like if he blocked it all out then no one would know what he did.

Then a hand touched the center of his back.

Shiro jerked and tensed tighter, preparing for a strike, for pain.  But the touch was soft and steady, not moving, and slowly he unwound and looked back.

“It’s okay,” Sam murmured.  “They can’t see.  It’s okay.  You can pull back now.”

Slowly sitting up, Shiro stared at him.  He registered that he was shaking like it was happening to someone else.  “I...”

Shifting the hand up to Shiro’s shoulder, Sam tugged him away until Shiro finally shifted.  Over his shoulder, someone gasped, and when Shiro followed the noise he saw it was Coran.

But he couldn’t deal with that.  He couldn’t process anything.

Shock, Shiro realized.  

Huh.  Funny.  He didn’t remember ever going into shock in the arena.

Then again, would he remember?

Another tug, and Shiro followed it blindly until he was leaning against the wall.  Then there was movement on his other side, and Shiro glanced over instinctively.

It took a moment to realize it was Matt looking over his face.

Then Shiro’s eyes widened, and he dove for the body again, prepared to cover it.

But Matt caught him by the shoulders and shoved him back.  “Nuh-uh.  I’m getting a look at you.  Hold still.”  He took hold of Shiro’s jaw and tilted his head to the side, letting out a low hiss at the claw marks.  “Damn, that’s not gunna be fun.  Your poor face doesn’t deserve this.”

“You...”  Shiro tried to pull away and move around Matt, but the hands held him firmly.  “You shouldn’t-”

“Takashi.”  The use of his proper name made him pause, and he finally looked at Matt properly.  His expression was grim but calm.  “I’ve seen things too. It’s okay.”

Shiro winced from the reminder.  Then he nodded and slumped back down.  All the fight in him felt burned out, collapsing like the ash of old firewood.

“I’m going to help Allura and Coran,” Sam murmured to them.  Mostly to Matt, who nodded his understanding.  Shiro was only kind of listening.  “I’ll be back in a moment, but I think it’s most helpful if... if this all isn’t right in front of us.”

‘This all’ meaning ‘the body of the being Shiro had murdered in front of his team’.

What a nice way of putting it.

After another minute of fussing, Matt sighed.  “I need to get the first aid kit.  I’ll be right back.  You sit tight, okay?  It should only be a few seconds, provided I don’t have to fight to come back alone.”  He reached out to pat Shiro’s shoulder, then pulled his hand away.

Shiro tried to tell himself it was because his shoulder was injured.

It was probably because Shiro was covered in blood.

Climbing to his feet, Matt jogged back to the room.  The second the door opened, Shiro could hear voices.

“How is-”

“What was Osa-”

And then it closed, and the sound cut off.

But Shiro wasn’t left to wallow, because a moment later Allura stepped over.  “Are you alright?”

Shiro just blinked at her.  Then he gave a slow, jerky nod.

“I suppose that was a stupid question, wasn’t it?”  Allura sighed, the sound so damn  _ tired _ .  And if it would have helped, Shiro would have apologized.  “Do you know why Osaha was here?”

Closing his eyes, Shiro nodded.  “Yes.  To kill us, so we wouldn’t talk to the council.  The Galra would hear.”

It seemed to take Allura a moment to riddle out the implications of that.  Then she sighed again, quieter this time.  “I see.”  There was a long beat of silence.  “I-”  Whatever she had planned on saying, she seemed to change her mind.  “We’ll be taking care of... of Osaha.  You should clean up and let Matt look you over.”

“Half done,” Shiro murmured.  “Will do.”

When he opened his eyes, Allura didn’t look convinced.  Her eyes were wet as she looked him over.

Shiro couldn’t blame her.  He was probably a hellish sight.

Reaching out, Allura rested her hand on the top of his head, like she didn’t know where else to touch right now.  “We’ll take care of this.  And we’ll deal with the rest when it’s a reasonable hour.  Try and rest.”

Shiro met Allura’s eyes. Then he snorted.

“Try anyway,” She replied, tone an order.

“Allura,” Coran called.  “I’m sorry, we need another set of hands for this.”

Nodding, Allura stood.  “I’m very serious, Shiro.  Try and rest.  Don’t worry about this.”  And then she moved to the body.  At some point, Coran or Sam had produced a sheet, and they’d covered Osaha’s body in it, and now they seemed to be trying to move it to one of the unused storage rooms.

Shiro watched them for a moment, then he placed his hand on the wall and used that to get to his feet.

A moment passed.  Or he thought it was a moment.  It may have well been hours, given how bad his track of time had been this evening.  But then the door opened, and Matt stepped back out.  “You’re- should you be up?  You need to be sitting down for this, I think.  Maybe laying for your shoulder.”

Shiro glanced once more at the efforts to move the body, then he shivered.  “The library?”

Watching as well, Matt took a shuddering breath. “Yeah, probably a good idea to, you know, not be here.  You sure you don’t want one of the rooms?  You’ll want a shower soon.  Medic’s orders on that one.”

“No,” Shiro replied, glancing between the two rooms and wincing.  “Not yet.”

“Fair enough.  Alright, let’s get you sitting before you keel over.  Let’s go, Muscles.”  Matt stepped over, sliding under the shoulder that wasn’t torn open and pulling Shiro’s good arm over his shoulders.  

It wasn’t really necessary.  Of the places Shiro hurt, his legs were some of the least.

But his head still felt like he was swimming in cotton, and...

And it was nice to lean for a bit.  To feel someone touching him without the intent to hurt.

Closing his eyes, Shiro let himself be lead away from the gore and be cared for, if only for a few minutes.

***

“Alright, this is all I can do until you’ve showered,” Matt announced, pulling back.  “If I put on bandages and more than the disinfectant, I’m just going to have to redo it once you’re clean.”

Which meant Shiro’s time was up.  Unless he was going to try and wander into the rest of the castle to find another shower, he had to pick one of the rooms.

Dammit.

Nodding, Shiro pushed himself out of the chair and stood.  He still felt not quite there, and a little like his body was going to give out and he’d just collapse.

Matt looked him over and tilted his head.  “You need another few minutes?”

Yes.  “No,” Shiro replied, shaking his head.  “I should get cleaned off so you can finish up.”  It wasn’t fair to keep Matt sitting around waiting for Shiro to figure out where his head had floated off to.

“You should get cleaned off because it can’t be comfortable,” Matt disagreed.  “And so we can make sure you’re not in any extra pain.  Need a hand again?”

Shiro shook his head again.  “I’ve got it.”  And he did, when he concentrated very hard on putting one foot in front of the other.

That left him with the issue of picking a room.

In either one, Shiro was going to be bombarded with questions.  The room with Pidge and Hunk would probably be calmer, but both were so curious he knew letting him go without answering would be hard on them.  Lance and Keith would be louder, but between Allura and Sam they would probably be easier to settle long term.

Shiro didn’t really want to deal with either.

In the end, the politics team room won out, only because that was the room Shiro’s bed was in.  He didn’t think he would sleep, but getting to lie down and relax his sore muscles sounded like a good plan.

Nodding to himself, Shiro pushed open that door, Matt hovering over his shoulder.

Whirling around on his bed, Lance started, then jumped off and hurried over.  “Shiro!  Are you okay?”  His voice caught Keith’s attention, and he stood up as well, but didn’t walk over.

“That’s up to Matt,” Shiro replied, because it was an easy deflection.  He noticed Lance was keeping a good distance between them, out of arm’s reach.

Made sense.  He doubted anyone wanted to be in striking distance after he’d sliced open Osaha’s head in front of them.

Matt sighed.  “About the same as last time.  Questions after showering, okay?  Sanitation and all that.”  He pushed at Shiro’s back, getting him walking again and aiming him toward the bathroom.

Glancing around, Shiro saw Allura and Sam weren’t back yet.

“You need help?” Matt asked, voice low.  “Your shoulder can’t be comfortable.”

Truth be told, Shiro barely felt it.  So he shook his head.  “I’ll be fine.  As long as I get washed off, it’ll be enough for tonight.”

Lips thin, Matt nodded and closed the door behind Shiro.

Aware that his sense of time was wonky, Shiro didn’t give himself any time to think and get distracted.  He undressed gently and made a mental note to apologize to Coran.  He didn’t know where he’d found the shirt, but Shiro hadn’t gotten it through more than a couple of days.

Limited water supply at first the Garrison, then the trip to Kerberos and finally with the Galra had trained Shiro into short, efficient showers, and even the seemingly endless supply of hot water at the Castle of Lions hadn’t shaken him from it.  So he was out before he’d fully registered being in.

Then he didn’t bother to put back on a shirt.  Shiro was so damn tired, and everyone had already seen him shirtless for dinner the other day.  He’d have to take it back off for Matt, so it wasn’t worth the effort.  So once he was back into his pants, at least, he padded back out.

Matt was perched on the bed Shiro had claimed, and he patted the spot next to him.  “Damn, that was quick.  Alright, c’mon, let’s finish you up.”  Once Shiro sat down, Matt pulled over the first aid kit and started to slather on more of the disinfectant from the castle.  “Not so bad here.  Mind, that’s gunna suck in the morning, but pretty sure you’ll live.”  He wrapped the shoulder, then moved to Shiro’s other side, still keeping up his chatter.  “This one I will not let scar.  I will reapply this shit every hour on the goddamn hour.  Like, it’s rugged, don’t get me wrong.  There’ll be swooning.  But fuck that noise, because she is not allowed to do that.  I refuse.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shiro replied, trying to resist the urge to turn and look at him and ruin Matt’s work.  “It’s not gunna be worse than the one I already have.”

Making a thoughtful noise, Matt shrugged.  “Maybe.  I mean, medically, this one’s better.   But it still blows.  And this one you’ll remember, so...”

Shiro just eyed him.  “I remember the other one.”  On the other side of the room, Lance’s breath caught, and Shiro shot them a quick look.  Their eyes were both wide, and Keith had gone pale.  “I remembered after the fight.”

Lips thin, Matt sighed.  “Well if it’s a bother, tell me to shove off.  But dammit, Shirogane, let me give you one less thing to worry about, alright?  For the love of crap.”

Starting slightly, Shiro stared, then nodded.  “Okay.”

And with that, Matt went back to patching him up, now grumbling under his breath.

But ignoring Matt in that kind of mood was as much a habit as the showers, and Shiro brushed it off and glanced at Lance and Keith again.  “Are you two okay?”

Keith snorted.  “Are  _ we _ okay?  Seriously?”

“Well,” Shiro replied, picking his words carefully.  “That had to be a horrible thing to wake up to.”

Letting out a noise like a growl, Keith half-stomped his way over.  Shiro tensed, but Keith just stopped in front of him and frowned.  “I’m going to hug you unless you object now.”

Shiro only gaped.  Chuckling, Matt finished up the last of the bandages and squirmed out of the way just as Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulders.

For a moment, Shiro stayed stiff and uncomfortable, waiting for the pin to drop.  Especially since Keith, while not necessarily against hugs when bothered into it and given warning, very rarely was the one to start these.

Then he melted into it.

Shiro clutched at the back of Keith’s shirt with a desperation that surprised himself.  The heat of Keith against him was like a blanket to the chill in his bones.  Absurdly, it made the shivers come back, and he curled against Keith and shut his eyes tightly.

Once he started to shake, Shiro couldn’t seem to stop.  But any moisture building is his eyes stayed safely behind his lids where it belonged.

Holding back just as tightly, Keith paused when he realized how badly Shiro was shivering.  “Are you cold?”  Shiro shook his head against Keith’s shoulder, not moving away at all.  “Why are- oh.  Lance?”

“Yes?” Lance drawled, suddenly much closer, though still at least a few feet away.  “You’re doing great, dude.”

Keith made a strangled noise.  “This is... you’re better at this.”

“At hugging?”

_ “Yes.” _

Lance snorted.  “Dunno, man, you have the form down and everything, and I’m not sure Shiro’s about to let go of you anytime soon.”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro tore himself away, folding his hands into his lap instead.  “I’m sorry.  You’re probably nervous now, I shouldn’t have...  Lance doesn’t have to.  Neither of you do.”

There was a pause.  “Nervous?” Lance asked, drawing the word out like he didn’t understand it.  “You think...?”

Shiro looked up at them both and shrugged.

Letting out a noise like a growl, Keith dove forward and pulled him into another hug.  “I started this!  I’m not... I thought Lance would be  _ better, _ not that I’m scared of you, you...”  He held tighter, practically digging his fingers in.

Then there was another gentle impact, and suddenly Lance was attached to Shiro’s side.  “I’m not nervous!”  He said, gaze indignant.  “I thought you probably didn’t want us hanging on to you!”

The combined force of two almost 20 year olds was too much for Shiro’s already shaky balance, and he toppled backward onto the bed.  Neither of them let go.

“Okay, I approve of this in spirit, but watch the shoulder, will you?” Matt called, and when Shiro looked he could only barely see him over the tops of both Keith and Lance’s heads.

Squirming, Lance made sure he wasn’t leaning on Shiro’s arm.  “There.  And apparently we’re not moving until Shiro stops thinking stupid things.”

Matt laughed.  “Good plan.  Actually, one second.”  He scampered off, then Shiro heard him murmuring quietly.  A moment later, he returned and set Shiro’s helmet down next to him.  “Phone’s for you.”

“What?”

“Shiro!”  Pidge’s voice came from the helmet, small but clear.  “Good.  I was hoping someone would think of this.  Coran sounded really serious when he told us to stay inside, otherwise we’d be over there with you.”

Honestly, it was just as well. Shiro was having enough trouble keeping up with these three.  “It’s fine. Coran’s not back?”

“Not yet,” Hunk replied.  “And you’re okay?”

Shiro couldn’t help a smile, even if it was small and thin.  “Matt patched me up.”

That made Pidge snort.  “Yeah, but are you  _ okay?” _

Closing his eyes, Shiro took a deep breath.  The lie was on the tip of his tongue.  But...

But then he looked back down.  Keith had finally disengaged, though his shoulder was still pressed to Shiro’s side, and Lance still had an arm wrapped around Shiro’s shoulders.  

And for once, the lie dried up.  For once, he was just too damn tired to hide.

For once, Shiro let them in.

“No,” Shiro admitted.  “But I might be later.”


	12. The Beast

The next morning, Shiro felt no better.

Eventually, Lance and Keith had been shooed to their own beds, Sam and Allura (and Coran, in the other room) had returned, and Matt had retreated across the hall.

Shiro hadn’t slept.  Instead, he spent the night trying to quietly wipe his hand on the sheets.  He knew intellectually that he was cleaned off from the shower, but he didn’t feel that way.  Whenever he stopped looking, Shiro swore they were wet.

When he did manage to doze, his dreams were a complicated mess, flashes of Osaha, the vine alien, the centipede.  Combining and twisted, until it was the centipede slicing his nose open in Maros’ arena, it was Osaha swiping clumsily at him with desperation in her eyes, it was the child with their head sliced open, in the hallway while his team watched.

By the time morning come, Shiro felt chilled to the bone.  He changed back into the borrowed shirt, despite the tear in the shoulder, and kept his blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

Then, they all talked.

“Veto,” Keith said immediately, arms crossed.  “It’s time to go.  Staying overnight was dangerous enough.”

Keith didn’t have to point out that they’d stayed for Shiro.  He clearly hadn’t been in a condition to go on the run.

Shiro already knew.

Nodding, Shiro closed his eyes.  He was  _ exhausted. _  In the past 72 hours he’d slept maybe four or five hour total, if he was counting drowsing.  “What about the weapon?” He finally asked, glancing between Lance and Allura.  “You were going to tell everyone.  This is the best planet for it.  They have more connections to Galra territory.”

“Yes,” Allura agreed.  “We’ll be back.  But as much as I hate to agree with Maros, this isn’t something that changes if we tell someone today or tomorrow.  We can start to spread the word on our own now, and then use Kratok’s connections at the next meeting.”

Shiro had so many objections to that.  Once they found Osaha’s body, it was horribly unlikely they would be welcomed back to speak to anyone.  That he didn’t want to leave because of this, that he didn’t want to have ended this all half-done at best and in failure at worst.

But he’d done enough damage.  It was time to go.

“We don’t have to fight every battle all at once,” Sam told him, so very gently.  Shiro flinched from it, from feeling like he was some wounded, feral animal.  “Shiro, please.  Veto.”

Finally opening his eyes again, Shiro glanced around.  Pidge and Keith were sharing another look, bags under their eyes and shoulders tensed unhappily, and he still had no idea what that was about.  Hunk looked tired too, frazzled around the edges from too many nights up and days drowsing, and next to him Lance has a determined, distant look to his eye, like he was already prepping what he’d say next time.  Matt was leaning against the back wall, arms crossed, and Sam was just shy of close enough to touch, but both were watching him closely, hovering regardless of physical distance.  

Allura and Coran were sitting close together on one of the beds.  They were both prepared to leave now, had been prepared this whole time to give up an important ally, one with historic and personal ties to Altea.  The descendant of someone they knew and liked personally.

Because of Shiro.

There was a warmth to that, but a weight too.  A level of responsibility to be worthy of their emotions.

_ Responsibility is a form of control. _

Shiro winced, then ducked his head.  “Veto,” he agreed.

“Oh, thank god,” Pidge muttered.  She pulled off her glasses to scrub over her face.  “Finally.”

Hunk shot him a smile, warm but ragged on the edges.  “I think we’re all ready to get out of here and go home.”

“It gives us more time to plan,” Lance pointed out, eyes bright, like he hoped the pragmatism would work better on Shiro.

And normally it would.  Dammit.  Shiro was going to need to be more careful around Lance in the future.

Shiro nodded.  “Yeah.  Let’s go home.”

Under the blanket, he continued to absently wipe his metal hand against the fabric of his pants.

***

The council meeting was set in the largest meeting hall in the castle.  Thankfully, the smaller hallways they’d learned to take never brought them directly to it.  But they could hear the murmurs of conversations echoing down the halls, never close enough to see or get a proper feeling for.  

All the noise set Shiro on edge.  It felt like there was hundreds of beings around them, all waiting around the corner, just out of sight.  It was a roar more than speaking, the mash of howled emotions and jeering rather than anything understandable.  It was-

No.  Stop.  Stop stop  _ stop. _  It wasn’t that.  It wasn’t.  

This wasn’t a problem.  They wouldn’t even run into them all.  He was fine, they were all fine.  But the nervous energy ran through him, increasing with every step.

Luckily, there didn’t seem to be many Galra guards around.  And that didn’t surprise Shiro.  They wanted to be involved with the planet, but he doubted they had an interest in the day-to-day aspects of ruling.  All they wanted was the results.

They saw no one until they were by spotted Maros, striding with purpose like he was making his way to the meeting.

At the sight of them, he started, nearly sloshing his drink out of the cup.  Then he frowned, ruffled more than upset. 

“What are you doing out?” He asked, eyes wide and confused.  “You are supposed to be hiding.”

Allura held her chin high, every inch the royal and Maros’ equal in rank, if not in personality or scale.  “It was time for us to leave, like discussed.”

Maros gave a disbelieving little shake of his head.  “There’s no need to run off  _ now. _  Especially during one of the busiest times possible _ ,” _   he murmured.  “Wait just a few hours.  Honestly!.  Where has Osaha gone?  She would escort you but...”  He turned around, tail lashing in irritation.  “She’s never gone like this, especially on so busy a day.  Was she with you this morning?”

Something in Shiro’s chest tightened.  It felt like his heart and been flash frozen and was sitting like a jagged rock in his chest, slowly sinking.

Or maybe it wasn’t ice.  Maybe it was steel.  Because Shiro stepped forward, hands clenched at his side, and shook his head.  “She won’t be coming.”

Maros froze, both from the words and the tone.  He shot Shiro a baffled look, then looked around at the rest of the group.  “What do you mean?”

“Shiro,” Coran murmured, wrapping a hand around Shiro’s wrist.  “There’s no need to-”

“She’s dead.”

At first, Maros only blinked.  Then the words seemed to register, and his eyes widened.  “No.  No, she was here last night.  I saw her.  She- what do you mean, Osaha’s dead?”

By now, Maros had forgotten to keep his voice down, and the noise echoed down the halls, just like the other conversations.  Shiro yanked his hand impatiently, shaking off Coran’s grip.  “She tried to attack us last night.  And now she’s dead.”  Each word dragged out of him, venomous and bright, and in that moment Shiro felt like anyone looking would see him with fangs and claws.

Shaking his head, Maros turned on his heel.  “No.  Don’t be absurd.  Osaha wouldn’t...  I’ll have someone go find her..”

“Check the hall we’ve been staying in,” Shiro replied, voice completely without emotion.  It felt like everything he was feeling was trapped somewhere far away, where Shiro didn’t need to think about it right now.  Instead, he could just  _ speak. _  Catching Maros’ eyes, Shiro narrowed his own.  “Bring a mop.”

Behind him, someone’s breath caught.  “Dude,” Hunk muttered, sounding like it was to himself.

And, yeah, Shiro was being terrible.  They should be horrified.

But it wasn’t going to stop him.  Because something was clawing it’s way out of him, and it was too late to stop it even if Shiro had wanted to.  Today, he wasn’t going to try.

Stepping forward, Shiro ripped his hands out of his pockets and leaned into Maros’ space.  It felt  _ good _ to be the one doing the invading, for once.  He’d spent all this time letting Maros touch him and pat him and hadn’t said a word, and this time it was Shiro’s fucking turn.

“A what?” Maros breathed, sounding horrified.  “Why would...?”

Shiro pulled his lips back, showing his teeth.  “I know the concept isn’t foreign to you, considering how many matches you watched.  How many you  _ paid for.” _

It was impossible to see Maros’ skin under all the fur, but from the way he flinched, Shiro would have bet money he’d just paled.  “But you... you?”  Something seemed to click, and Maros’ eyes went wide.  “You killed her?”

“Yes,” Shiro replied plainly.

Allura sucked in a breath.  “No!  It was self defense, not-”

She trailed off as they both ignored her.

Slowly, something seemed to change in Maros.  He stopped backing away from Shiro and leaned back into him instead.  “Why? Why would you kill her?”

“She tried to kill us before we could tell about the weapon,” Shiro replied, voice almost light.  Like he hadn’t cared for a single moment.  “So we fought.  And you know what happens to the ones I fight.”

“Not last time!” Maros shot back, nearly desperate.  “Last time you didn’t.  You could do it without killing, I saw you!”

Shiro just smiled back, a nasty, vicious expression.  “She didn’t concede.”

“What are you doing?” Pidge hissed.  He heard her step forward, but Shiro’s hand shot up in a staying gesture, and she paused automatically.

Maros stared.  For a moment, everything about his slumped, and he looked destroyed.

It felt like victory.  And victory tasted like blood.

Then, slowly, he turned to look at Shiro.  “You...  _ You!   _ After everything I did for you!  I sheltered you!  I Favored you!”

“Are you fucking  _ surprised?” _ Shiro snarled back, tone darker and deeper than he’d known he could manage.  It was a growl made into words, more like a beast than a being.  “You’re the one who sent me to kill.  You’re the one who put weapons in my hands and didn’t let me go until I’d used them.  You paid to make me a monster.  But I never said I was  _ tame.” _

Once the words were out, Shiro realized he was panting hard, that he was shaking and that his fingers were curved like he’d claw Maros’ eyes out too.

He realized he looked and sounded like the monster he’d described himself as.

“Your Highness.”  And that was Lance, who stepped forward, standing next to Shiro.  He held out one arm, like he was trying to get Shiro to back off, then held up the other to get Maros’ attention.  “It was for-”

Maros  _ snarled, _ painfully loudly, and Lance took a startled step back.  _  “Shut up!  _  You think I’m going to listen to a word any of you have to say after you killed Osaha?  I don’t care how many superweapons the Galra have, they’re a damn sight better than  _ you.” _

Swallowing hard, Lance glanced at Shiro, then back at Allura.  “But-”

“It’s your fault,” Shiro submitted, tone back to edged near-mania.  “I’m what you made me, after all.”

Allura stepped forward as well, shooting Shiro a glare.  He only stared back, brows up.  It was far, far too late to stop him.  “The Galra would kill everyone on this planet, including you and Osaha, with this technology.  You must-”

“I must nothing!” Maros snarled back.  “You-”  He shook his head, gaze wild, and then he spun around looking for someone to call. Looking for  _ Osaha _ , by force of habit.  Not finding her.

He flinched, then went dangerously tense.

It was time to go.  Except Shiro didn’t want to anymore.  He wanted to keep pushing, to keep cutting.  He wanted Maros to hurt, too.

“But-” Lance tried again.

Shiro laughed, the noise low and ugly.  “Oh,  _ Your Highness, _ were you looking for Osaha to start more fights?” He stepped past Lance’s arm and into Maro’s space again.  “Maybe you were disappointed you didn’t get to watch the last one?  I’ll be happy to demonstr-”

The blow was powerful and unexpected, and Shiro reeled with it, nearly losing his balance completely.

Maros’ breath came in quick, vicious pants.  “Don’t you  _ dare. _  I would have never-”

Clearly, he’d never wanted her to die.  He’d just wanted to make her fight, because that was  _ so much fucking better. _

Maros had probably wanted the same thing for Shiro.

Well, he could go fuck himself.

An arm wrapped around Shiro’s chest.  He started, and nearly elbowed back, but the voice stopped him. “That’s enough, Shiro,” Coran murmured.  “We have to go.”

Already, Shiro could hear the sounds of bayards activating.  They were ready to fight on his behalf.

Yes, this had escalated enough.  Shiro nodded and started to turn away.

But then a hand shot out and wrapped around his throat.

“You will not leave,” Maros commanded, voice ugly as he squeezed.  Shiro’s hands came up automatically, scratching over the fur.  “You will face the consequences of your murder!”

The barrel of a gun entered the corner of Shiro’s vision.  “Let him go,” Lance demanded, voice hard.

And that was when sense seemed to click back in Shiro’s head.

What was he  _ doing? _

After all that about setting a good example, after all that work to right the wrong he’d committed when he’d lost his temper before, for what?

Because Shiro had been looking for consequences.  He’d wanted his reward for his actions. He’d wanted to confront Maros about what the results of his Favors was.

But he’d never wanted to put the others in this position.

So Shiro let go of Maros’ hands and covered the end of Lance’s barrel.

Immediately, it withdrew.  “Shiro, what?” Lance asked, sounding utterly confused.

Then Shiro held onto Maros’ arms, twisted his leg up, and kicked him in the stomach.

The blow was hard enough that Maros was knocked to the ground, and his grip loosened automatically.  Shiro was jerked along, but he was able to plant his feet and keep from falling as well.

Turning to Lance, Shiro shook his head.  “He’s not worth it.”

He didn’t mean Maros didn’t deserve to die.  He meant it wasn’t worth it to make them killers and assassins just for his sake.

Then Coran tugged on Shiro again.  “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Shiro replied, taking a deep breath to test it.  It hurt, but he could breathe fine.  “Let’s go.”

“Finally!” Pidge let out, sounding so painfully relieved and scared that Shiro’s heart clenched.

He was an idiot.  

Behind them, Maros climbed to his feet, yelling for the guards.  But it was too late, because they were already escaping down the hall.  

When Shiro glanced back, he happened to see eyes watching them.

Selmak and Anise.  They shared a quick look, not seeming to notice Shiro’s gaze.

Then it was time to  _ run. _


	13. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a title like that, surely nothing can go wrong

Bending down, Shiro paused in front of Sam.  “Climb up.”

Sam grit his teeth but did so, clutching his cane and grumbling unhappily over his leg.  

It might have been wiser to have Allura or Coran carry Sam, but Shiro wanted to.  It soothed something, at least for the moment.  He was being useful.  Doing something  _ right _ .  And that meant more than he could say.

Plus, Shiro just felt better for having Sam close and safe.

“Okay, I’m thinking that walking through the city to the castle’s a bad idea, now,” Matt said, panting already. 

Keith jerked his head farther down the hall.  “The hangers are that way.”  At the surprised looks, he shrugged.  “Allura had me following people.  I know the layout now.”

“Your creepy spying job finally came in handy,” Lance breathed, sounding awed.  “Perfect.”

“Can we even use the ships?” Sam pointed out, as they followed Keith through the winding hallways.  “It’ll be a dead end, and unless we can get them to work, we’ll be trapped.”

Coran huffed out a laugh.  “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.  We’ve been working with their systems the past several days.  Getting in won’t be an issue.”

“But flying them?” 

Hunk huffed and shook his head.  “They’ll be Galran.  We can fly those.  Shiro can get in.”

Raising his right hand, Shiro waggled the fingers to demonstrate.

Nodding against Shiro’s shoulder, Sam held on tightly. “Good.”

It was a ten minute dash to the bay, and then barely a minute for Pidge’s door hacking code to get them in.

They weren’t alone.

Half a dozen Galra sentries stood, not ten feet away.  At first they paused, clearly surprised.  It seemed either Maros’ call to arms hadn’t reached this area, or hadn’t applied to the Galra at all.

But it didn’t take them long to catch on.  Immediately, their guns raised.

Vaguely, distantly, Shiro heard bayards activating.  

But that didn’t matter.  Because Shiro’s world had narrowed, and his whole body was still arching with the need to  _ fight. _

He might not have use of his arm now, but he’d fought far worse odds than that.

Crying out, Shiro charged.

The arms around him tightened reflexively, and he heard his name called, but Shiro was beyond recognizing that.  Instead he ducked, making himself a smaller target.  The opponent was armed, but if he moved fast they couldn’t aim, and that was what mattered.  

Shiro kicked one in the stomach hard enough to send them flying back a couple of feet.  Then he spun, snapping his foot back around in almost a complete circle to kick the gun out of another’s hand.

But that meant Shiro couldn’t readjust to the position.  Without his arms, his balance was off.  There was nothing he could do but brace and prepare for impact as the unarmed opponent reeled back to strike at his back.

Wait, his back?   _ No, _ that was-

A cane swung out from above Shiro’s head and smacked the opponent in the helmet, at least stunning them.  Which was enough time for someone - Keith - to shove his way between them to defend, then strike.

Then there was a hand on Shiro’s arm, making him jolt.

“What were you thinking?” Hunk cried, eyes wide and face lined with tension.  “I could have hit them all in one go, Shiro!”

He-

Yes, Hunk could have.  With no one in the way, Hunk’s weapon would have been devastating to the tightly packed group.

Instead, Shiro had charged forward, with Sam  _ still on his back. _

What was wrong with him?

Reality had slipped before, but never like this.  Never dragging someone unarmed into combat without so much as a warning.

As Shiro watched, Lance shot down the sentry that Shiro had kicked to the floor, keeping them down before they could get back up, while Keith took out two with a swipe.  Pidge wrangled the other three together, and Hunk hit them all with a shot.

They had it handled so much better without him in the way.

“Perhaps I should take Samuel,” Coran murmured, sudden and close.  Shiro jumped, breath catching in panic.

Coran’s posture was sympathetic, but his eyes were tight.  Over his shoulder, Allura watched somberly.

Before Shiro could speak, Sam pushed off his back and stood on his own.  “I can walk from here,” he decided, resting his weight on the cane.  “No need for anyone to take me.”  He caught Shiro’s gaze, and though he didn’t look upset, he was clearly ruffled from the trip.

“You sure?” Matt asked, eyeing him, but he didn’t push when his father only nodded.  He glanced sideways at Shiro, expression strained.

Shiro looked away first.

Lance stepped back, bayard still in weapon form but his hand no longer on the trigger.  “Okay, now what?  Which ship?”

“There,” Matt replied, pointing toward a thin but long craft.  “That’s a Class 5 ship.  Built for speed.”

Pidge opened it with her program before Shiro could even make his way over, and she didn’t look his way as she stepped in.

He tried not to let that feel like anger rather than focus.  He didn’t really succeed.

“Shiro,” Coran called, gesturing to the control panel.  Shiro hurried over and lit his hand.

_ Osaha’s face- _

No.   _ No. _  Shiro wasn’t there anymore.

Blinking himself back into awareness, Shiro took a step away from the console and deactivated his hand.

With a few quick presses on the console, Coran had them in the air and the hatch opening.  “Prepare for evasive maneuvers, everyone.”

They shot out from the hanger, rising so quickly it would have been painful in a ship without inertia dampeners.  The screens showed a very volley of fire, but it had been less than five minutes since they’d beaten the sentries, and around fifteen since confronting Maros.  The defenses were, at best, prepared for them to flee on foot.  Not for a Galra ship at full speed.

They were finally, finally leaving that awful place behind.

Shiro sat down in one of the chairs, head heavy.  His whole body felt weighed down, actually.  Intellectually, it was probably the exhaustion catching up with him.  But it felt like his insides were metal now, like his bones were built from the same material as his arm, without any means of supporting it.  Like he was going to crash down and never get back up.

Movement to his right caught Shiro’s eye, and he glanced over.  Hunk had settled down, and he was examining the side of Shiro’s face carefully.  “Maros got the side without the cuts,” he remarked, hand coming up but never quite touching.  “Doesn’t look like he broke the skin.  Want me to get Matt?”

“No,” Shiro murmured back, wincing at the idea and leaning heavily in the chair.  “It’ll bruise, but nothing worse.  It can wait till we’re in the castle.”  Besides, after his stunt, he deserved to stew a little.

Hunk nodded, if a bit reluctantly.  “And after a good night’s sleep,” he added, sounding hopeful.

On Hunk’s other side, someone snorted.  Glancing over, Shiro saw Keith.  When he noticed the looks, Keith shrugged and looked away.

“Am I the only one not satisfied with this?” Pidge murmured, tone painfully dark.  “I... it’s not  _ fair. _  All that, and Maros gets away with everything?”

Keith scoffed again.  “Like fair ever matters.”

“Dude,” Lance murmured, turning on Keith more angrily than Shiro had heard in months.  “Would you shut it?”

Shiro let out a bitter laugh of his own.  “Oh, Maros isn’t getting away.”  When everyone turned to look at him, he shrugged.  “Selmak and Anise saw.”

“So?” Keith shot back.  His hands gripped his chair’s armrests and he bared his teeth, like he wanted to jump out of the ship and run back to the castle, bayard out.  “So he has to do a little political clean up.  Big deal.”

But Lance shook his head.  “Oh.  No.  They’re not going to tell everyone at once.  They’re going to let it leak.”

“And the Galra will hear,” Allura murmured.  “And Osaha will be right.  We won’t be there to protect them anymore, so...”

Shiro smiled, the same razor-edged expression from confronting Maros.  “Maros is dead.  He’ll be made an example of.  He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Silence was the answer.

Clearing his throat, Hunk looked to Allura.  “Should... I mean, there are other people in that castle.  Should we just leave?”

For a moment, Allura stayed quiet.  “We’ll keep an eye on the situation,” she replied.  “But, to be pragmatic... what are our options?  We return and fight Maros?  Stay in orbit and fight off every Galra ship that comes on?  We can’t stop the guards already there.”

Hunk looked pale, but he didn’t protest.

At this point, there was nothing they could do except hope Maros was the only one to face the consequences.  That the murder of their king wouldn’t incite a rebellion, that the rest of the representatives wouldn’t face the consequences of their king’s actions.

“We’ll be back,” Allura promised.  “And we’ll see what we can do then.”

“Hey, maybe they’ll be more interested in shaking off the Galra then.  We’d get something out of it, finally,” Pidge offered, voice just shy of snide.

Sam straightened up.  “Enough.”

Scowling, Pidge crossed her arms and shrugged.  She looked so ruffled, and it was probably at least partially down to a lack of sleep.  They’d pushed everyone too hard, these past few days.

This entire mission had been such a series of fuck-ups.  And all of them were on Shiro’s shoulders.

The ship slowed and then began to lower.  “We’re here,” Coran told them, voice quiet.  

It was time to go.

***

Once they were back in the castle and in the air, everything started to feel almost normal.  Being back in the familiar surroundings seemed to make everyone act more typically.

Except for Shiro.

“You know, I almost feel bad leaving that Galra ship,” Matt sighed, slumping into a seat in the control room.  His tone was just a tad too easy, and his eyes were sharp as he looked over the room.  

Coran shook his head as he set their course.  “Not worth it.  Who knows what kind of tracking equipment they have installed?  It’d take us weeks to make sure it was completely clean.”

That only made Matt whine.  “Yeah, but it was fast.  And we don’t have a lot of spare ships that anybody can fly with some practice.”

“You’re not a pilot,” Pidge pointed out blandly.  “What are you going to do with a ship?”

Sam let out a chuckle, though it sounded tired.  “Oh, that’s right, I forgot about all the pilot lessons we used to take you to.”

“That’s different!”

Hunk held up his hands, lips curling up.  “Maybe next time we’ll think about that before we’re running from the Galra, okay?”

“I’m holding you to that.”

Allura eyed them.  “There are extra craft on this ship, you know.”

That made Pidge shrug.  “Eh.  I mean, I modified some of them, so they do go pretty fast, but we don’t have many outside of two-seaters.”

Matt gestured to her.  “See? Not as much fun at all.”

While they bickered, Keith came over, leaning against the wall that Shiro had been hovering next to.  “You okay back here?”

“Hmm?” Shiro glanced at him, fighting the urge to tense.  Keith would see. “Tired, mostly.  I’ll be fine.”

Keith eyed him, frowning deeply.  “You sure?  You keep...”  He gestured to Shiro’s hands.

Brow furrowed, Shiro followed the gesture.  His natural hand was cupping the metal one, the thumb rubbing over the back over and over, like he was trying to scrub it clean.

He hadn’t even noticed.

“Does it hurt?” Keith asked, meeting his eyes seriously.  “Pidge and Hunk can look into it.”

Despite how many times the both of them had poked into his arm before, giving minor repairs and making sure everything functioned as expected, the idea made Shiro want to gag.

No.  Not right now.  He needed to get in, to make sure there was nothing caked inside.  Shiro could still smell the gore and burned fur so clearly, and part of him thought it was because some had gotten in, and was just sitting there.  There was no reason to subject Pidge and Hunk to that.  Or anyone, really.  Shiro would make sure it was all clean before he let that happen.

So Shiro shook his head and made a fist, then let it go.  “No.  Just antsy.”

Keith watched him carefully, like he wasn’t sure of his welcome.  “I know I was just kind of dismissive, but you should try and get some sleep.  You look ready to fall over.”

“I should,” Shiro agreed, but he didn’t move.  Instead he watched everyone chat, happy to watch the bickering from afar.  Once in awhile, someone would glance over, but they seemed content with him being Keith’s problem for now.

Finally, Keith turned to face him properly.  “You can’t stay awake forever,” he pointed out.  “Would it... you could talk about it?”  But even as he said it, he winced and looked uncomfortable.

Which was probably just him being Keith, but Shiro figured he didn’t want to hear about it, either.  After all, Shiro didn’t even want to think about it, and he’d been the one who did it.  “I’m fine,” Shiro replied softly.  “Most of it wasn’t a surprise.”

“Including the centipede?” Keith pointed out, not backing down.  “I’m seriously, I can talk with you about it.”

Shiro shook his head.  “No, I’m not going to make you-” Then he paused.  “Centipede?”

Staring back, Keith tilted his head.  “You said you remembered what happened to your nose.”

“How...” Shiro’s brow furrowed.  “Yes, I do.  How do  _ you _ know about it?”

Keith froze.

He looked  _ guilty. _

Stepping back from him, Shiro took a deep breath.  “How do you know that, Keith?”

“We...” Keith trailed off.  He glanced over to the others, panic in his eyes.  “Um.  I don’t-”

Following his gaze, Shiro glanced at the rest of the group, who had gone quiet at the commotion.  “Keith.  How do you know about the centipede?”

This time, it was an order.  

Shiro’s heart was pounding, and his mind worked in a blur, trying to figure out when Keith could have possibly learned it, when he’d only remembered a few hours ago.  He couldn’t have had a flashback before then, or else it wouldn’t have been new.  Had someone told him?  Who could possibly tell him?  Maros?  Had Maros even seen that fight?

“We... that is...  Um.”  Keith cast another desperate glance back, this time catching Pidge’s gaze.

Like they had been for the past several days.

Drawing himself up, Shiro stared down Pidge as well.  She glanced between them, then paled.

“You know too?” Shiro asked, voice rough with anger.  “Who else...?”  Judging by the sudden guilty looks, Lance and Hunk were in on it.  Matt had gone carefully blank, which was deeply suspicious, and Sam, Allura and Coran all simply looked confused.

Turning back to Keith, Shiro stepped forward, chest so tight it was hard to force out the words.  “Answer the question.”

Keith stared up at him, shoulders up and tense.  “We saw,” he blurted under the force of Shiro’s look, then seemed surprised at himself.

“Saw what?” Shiro repeated, confused.  Then it clicked.  “Saw the fight?  How did you...?”

Standing, Sam held up a hand, clearly uncomfortable.  “Takashi.  Emotions are running high right now.  I’m not sure what this is about but-”

_ “No,” _ Shiro snarled, all the anger he’d never aimed at his team bubbling up.  “I want to know.”

Clearing her throat, Pidge ducked her head.  “We found footage in an old Galra computer.  It was some of your fights.”

Shiro’s heart pounded, hard enough that it felt like it was going to rip it’s way out of him.  His hand worked as he tried and failed to process that.  “When?”

“A few months ago,” Keith admitted, quieter than Shiro had ever heard him speak.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Shiro looked between all four again.  “Months.   _ Months? _  And you... you all saw...”

Saw the fight with the centipede.  Saw how his arm had turned on and mercilessly cracked open the creature’s head.

Well.  No wonder they’d been so calm about everything.

Why be surprised when a monster gets violent?

What else had they seen?  

Shiro realized he’d been stumbling back when his back hit the wall.  His eyes jumped from each one to the other, seeing the guilt in their eyes.  But more than that, he saw how nervous they were.  How Keith was tensed up against his anger, how they were all drawing back and away.

They knew.  They’d known all along.

“How many?” He asked, mouth running on autopilot.  He didn’t want to know, but he needed to.  Needed to understand.  “Just the one?”

Eyes suddenly bright with tears, Pidge shook her head.  “No,” she admitted, voice choked.  “A lot.  Lance and Hunk only saw the one, though,” she added, voice fast as though she was afraid he’d turn on them all any second.

Afraid of his wrath.

Because they’d  _ seen. _

And Matt definitely knew, or else he’d be more surprised, like Sam, Allura and Coran.

Shiro was...

They were...

Memories started to flash before his eyes, tained by the new knowledge.  When he’d turned on that Galra commander because he’d thought they were dead.  Them seeing him under the control of his arm, turning on them, knowing he’d fight them, knowing what he could  _ do _ in a fight (and Keith offering anyway, only for the others to talk him down).  Him snapping on the smuggler, or when he’d been lost in that memory while in Voltron and  _ none of them had been surprised. _

They knew they knew  _ they knew. _

They hadn’t been surprised because it was nothing new.  They’d seen what a monster Shiro had been turned into.

And because of that, they had learned the wrong lessons.  They’d thought the violence was okay, they’d become used to his actions, and now-

Shiro needed air.

He heard, vaguely, that they were speaking to him, that someone was telling him to time his breathing, that someone was mentioning the pod.

Shaking his head, Shiro turned on his heel and he ran.

There was only one safe space in this castle right now, and it was the place they couldn’t follow him.

Sprinting to the hangars, Shiro found the black lion with her mouth already open.

And he climbed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the truth shall set you free.
> 
> Or send you into a spiraling panic attack.
> 
> Definitely one or the other.


	14. The Decision

That had gone about as badly as it possibly could.

Hunk scrubbed over his face and took a deep breath, fighting back the prickling pressure behind his eyes.

“Shiro!” Keith called, already started for the door.  

“Dude, no,” Lance replied, and when Hunk looked up, he had his arm out in front of Keith.  “Don’t chase him.  That’s not going to make him feel better.”

Keith’s entire body went tense, and he glanced back at the door like he might make a break for it anyway.  But then he nodded and sagged, dropping into a chair with his head down.

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t understand what just happened,” Allura admitted.  “What were you all talking about?”

Hunk glanced at the rest, biting his bottom lip.  Keith still didn’t pick up his head, but he caught Pidge’s eye.  She looked gutted, and Hunk didn’t think he’d seen her this close to tears since they’d found her family.

“We, uh...”  Hunk paused, trying to think of how to word this.  “A while back, Pidge was going through some files on an old Galra console we got from a base we raided.”

Pidge nodded to Allura.  “It was when I was still looking for information on prisoners.”

That made Coran sigh and sit down next to Sam.  “And when we never questioned what information you got from those things.”

“Right,” Pidge agreed.  “And on one of them we found...”  She trailed off, eyes snapping closed.  “We found a lot of gladiator footage.”

“Oh,” Allura breathed.  “And some of it...?”

Lance shook his head.  “All of it.  I think, anyway.”  He glanced over and waited for Pidge’s nod.  “It was all Shiro.  Not every fight, probably, but a lot of them.”

“And I’m an idiot,” Keith muttered, running a hand through his hair.  “Because me and Pidge watched it all.  And we decided it was best to keep it to ourselves.”

Leaning back, Sam glanced between them all, eyes wide.  “Why on Earth would you do that to yourselves?”

Finally sitting up, Keith shot Sam a frazzled look.  “We thought it would help.  If we knew what Shiro had been through, then maybe we could help when he wasn’t all there.”

Matt let out a low, gusty breath.  “Which is going to get a great reaction.”

“Can’t be worse than what already happened,” Hunk pointed out.  The words made Keith tighten up again, and Hunk reached out and rested his hand on Keith’s shoulder, squeezing.

He got a wide-eyed look back.  Keith looked  _ lost _ .

It may well have been that Keith had never seen Shiro that upset at him.  After all, Hunk certainly hadn’t.

“What happened to the footage after?” Sam asked.

Pidge snorted.  “We buried it deep.”

Matt raised a hand.  “I can vouch for that.”  When Hunk and Pidge shot him surprised looks, he shrugged.  “When I got it out of you, I looked into it.  I had trouble even finding it, much less cracking into the security.”

“You knew?” Lance asked, eyes wide.  “When did that happen?”

Hunk shrugged.  “He cornered Pidge and I.”

Brows up, Matt eyed them darkly.  “You weren’t being super subtle.”

“Matthew,” Sam sighed, and Matt looked away with a frown.  Then Sam turned to look at the rest of them.  “I wish you hadn’t seen that.  Not just because of what happened, but for your own sakes.  That couldn’t have been easy.”

It hadn’t been.  Hunk hated the memory.  Even just the few minutes he and Lance had seen had been haunting, much less what Keith and Pidge must have had to digest.

Pidge shrugged and curled up in her chair, arms around her legs.  “Maybe,” she allowed, if grudgingly.  “But now what do we do?  Do we just... sit around?”

That was the million dollar question.

“We wait,” Coran said, shrugging.  “What else can we do?  We can’t track him down and force him to listen to your apology.  He needs time to cool off.”

Sam nodded and closed his eyes.  “I agree.”

“In the meantime, it might be time to rest,” Allura added.  She got four glares, and she held up her hands in response.  “I’m serious.  Everyone is frazzled and tired.  It’s been a long,  _ long _ day.  And Shiro isn’t going-”  But then she frowned.

Hunk glanced at the others, then back to Allura.  “Is something wrong?”

Swallowing hard, Allura dropped her hands.  “The Black Lion is active.”  She replied.  “And it’s sending out a distress signal.”

***

“How is there no override for the lions?” Lance asked, voice strangled.

Personally, Hunk was in agreement.  It seemed like a stupid oversight.  

It had taken about five seconds after getting to the hanger to prove that there wasn’t a physical threat distressing the black lion, and that Shiro was indeed inside.  All their attempts to call him had been instantly rejected, and even the distress signal kept flickering on and off.

Clearly, Shiro wasn’t interested in contact. But when the black lion was trying to contact them in such a frightening way, Hunk thought there had to be some kind of problem.

Coran sighed.  “There are some ways, but they usually require the paladin in question to be unconscious or injured.”  When everyone turned to look at him, he shrugged.  “Anything else, it was assumed that they could get out on their own.”

Okay, Hunk wanted to have a very serious one-on-one conversation with some long dead engineers about basic safety protocols.  But that wasn’t about to happen.

“What else are we supposed to do?” Keith demanded, fists clenched tightly at his side.  He glanced up at the black lion, eyes bright and nearly maniac.  “We can’t just pry it open, can we?”

Pidge snorted.  “Good luck.  These things take being crashed onto a planet with barely more than paint scratches.  We’re not getting in there unless we want to do real damage with one of the other lions.”

“Call that plan D,” Hunk added.  “If it comes to it, we can repair the black lion.  But we should explore other options, first.”

Allura nodded, if a bit distractedly.  She was still trying to make contact with Shiro, resending the call every few seconds when the previous one was rejected like clockwork.  On screen, the window turned red again as the distress signal once again activated.  “I agree.  I don’t think we would be called here if there weren’t other options.”

That was a lot of faith in the lions.  Maybe that was just Hunk’s bond with Yellow, but for all they were old and powerful and wise, it seemed like a lot of the communication was ‘here’s a problem.  Fix it.  Good job.’

“Are there cameras inside?” Matt asked, brow furrowed.  “I mean, there has to be, but not ones you get through the comm channels.  I’m not sure exactly how it’d work, but would it be possible to hack one and get the feed?  Not to talk to Shiro but just to look in on him.”

Brow furrowed, Coran nodded slowly.  “Maybe.  I’m not sure what the process of hacking a lion would cause.  But we do have access to the systems, and they would be helping rather than fighting.”

Matt shook his head, and Hunk was reminded how  _ weird _ it all sounded from the outside.  “We can at least start that.  It’s a plan C.”

“In the meantime, the rest of us will-” Allura froze as her screen suddenly went black.  Then the window came back, this time only containing the Voltron symbol.  Wide-eyed, she looked up at the black lion.

Did she think...?

Huh.

“There’s another way of contacting him,” Allura told them, careful and slow.  “The bonds.”

_ Oh. _

That would be... hell, even bonding with someone who was meeting them halfway was difficult.  Doing it to someone avoiding contact was going to be rough.  Not to mention that they’d have front row seats to whatever was going on in Shiro’s head.  And that wasn’t going to be anything pleasant.

Hunk’s arm gave a phantom ache at the last time they’d shared one of Shiro’s memories.  They’d felt the pain of the bone splitting through the skin, felt Shiro’s terror like it was running through their veins too.

Nodding, Keith started for the red lion.  “Right.  Let’s go.”

“Wait.”  Sam held up his hand, biting on his bottom lip.  “I’m not sure I recommend this.”

Lance stared at him like he’d grown another head.  “We can help Shiro.”

Frowning, Sam closed his eyes.  “And I don’t want Shiro in there and suffering anymore than you do,” he managed, voice tight.  “But your mental health is important too.  And jumping headfirst into whatever these mental bonds are while he’s in a bad place...  If Shiro was in physical danger, I wouldn’t want you jumping into it as well to help him, if there were other options.”

“What options?” Pidge demanded, glaring at her father.

Matt raised a hand.  “You can give me ten minutes and see if I can get anywhere.”

But Pidge turned to Coran, hands on her hips and eyes bright.  “What are the chances of this working?  Honest answer.”

Coran considered and leaned back.  Then he shook his head.  “Not very good.  The lions are designed to resist that kind of force.  And even then we’ll only be seeing inside.  But it’s at least a chance, and I’ve seen you all do plenty with the lions we never thought possible.”

Steeling himself, Hunk stood up straighter.

“I think it’s worth it.  And Shiro would do it for us.”

Matt glanced sideways at him, brows up.  “At this point, can we really call that a recommendation?”  Under the weight of four furious glares, he held up his hands.  “I’m just saying.  And look, let’s say you go in.  What happens if something goes wrong, and you all just end up locked in his flashbacks with him?  How do you think that’s going to go?”

Wincing, Hunk hunched his shoulders.  Shiro’s reaction to them doing this if they succeeded was going to be ugly, but if things went badly...

But Keith stepped forward, eyes still bright with temper, and pointed right at Matt’s chest.  “Shiro saved you!  And you’re just going to let him suffer?”

“I know that!  I  _ know. _ ” Matt snarled right back, so unlike his usual half-joking tone that Hunk almost jumped.  “But that’s no reason to let you all go fry your brains!  Maybe we should try something actually helpful first, instead of diving in headfirst.”

Sam pressed his cane between both of them, using it to make them both take a step back.  “This isn’t helping,” he told them, voice low and calm.

Idly, Hunk wondered if that’s where Shiro got the tone he used to break up fights from, because it was damn near identical.

“It’s our call, right?” Hunk asked, voice quiet.  “We get to decide.  And if we’re old enough to go out and fight a war with the Galra, we’re old enough to decide if we want to risk this.”

Allura nodded, eyes sharp.  “Yes.  But you have to be aware of the risks.”

“We are,” Lance replied, shoulders straight and suddenly looking taller.  “Actually, considering we’re the ones who have done this before, I think we know the risks best.”

Pidge stuck her chin up.  “And Keith and I started this.  We should be the ones to fix it.”

But Coran shook his head.  “I admire the desire to fix your mistakes,” he said softly.  “Though I don’t think subjecting yourselves to this is the answer to that.  It’s certainly not one Shiro will appreciate.  Even putting that aside, it seems to me that the desire to make up for things that weren’t totally in our control is the cause of much of this in the first place.”

That made Pidge deflate, though her eyes still burned brightly.

“So we decide to do this to help Shiro,” Hunk replied, in that same soft voice.  “Not because we have something to prove, not because we feel guilty.  Just because we want to help, and it’s what we can do.”

Something in Allura gaze went warm, and she smiled at Hunk.  Then she nodded to them and stepped back.  “You have the right to make your own calls.”

Matt stared at her, confused and wide-eyed.  But Sam put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him before he could say more.  Next to him, Coran took a deep breath, then caught Allura’s gaze, something passing between them.

Hunk could guess what.

He might as well have just receited back what Allura told them being a paladin of Voltron was about, if in a very specific context.  And he’d meant every word.

“Be safe,” Sam said softly.  “Remember to keep your own minds safe, too.  Sacrificing one for the other has gotten us nowhere.”

Shifting from foot to foot, Keith looked over at the rest of them.  “Well, that’s why there’s all of us.  It’s not just one of us going in.  We’re a team.”

And now Hunk got why Allura and Coran had looked almost bittersweet and proud.

On the screen, four more Voltron symbols popped up, all in different colors.

“I think the lions agree with us,” Lance replied, lips curled in what was nearly a smile.

Matt threw up his hands.  “Well.  If the lions agree.”

“Exactly,” Lance returned, without any of Matt’s sarcasm.

Sam nudged his son, then nodded to them.  “Sounds like your minds are made up.”  Then he paused.  “Katie?”

Stepping forward, Pidge glanced back at the others, then at her father.  He held out his arms, and she walked into them and his hug.  And Hunk couldn’t hear what he murmured to her, but he could guess by her returning smile.

“Ready?” Hunk asked, once she broke away.

And no one needed to answer, because they were.

It was time to go help Shiro.

***

 

To Hunk’s surprise, connecting to Shiro was downright  _ easy. _

It was like when that Robeast had supercharged the connection, and they’d all been washed along in the wake, forced deeper than usual.  Except Hunk suspected Shiro had gone there of his own volition, this time.

He could feel the others connecting as well, in the distant but familiar way he always could.  And now that they were actually in, Hunk couldn’t help hesitating, if only for a moment.

Shiro’s presence was normally grounding.  He was calming and held them all down securely, from anxieties or fears or impulsiveness.

Now, that force, so like gravity, had become a black hole.  A pressure that felt dangerous, compressing.  It didn’t look survivable.

Hunk’s stomach turned.

Was that what Shiro had been living with?

“Ready?” Keith asked, echoing Hunk’s words back to him.  He was poised, practically shaking from the need to dive in and help.

Hunk’s resolve hadn’t changed.  No one’s had.

They dove in...

_...He dove down, ducking under the swipe of a weapon and rolling passed his opponent's legs.  But it was without any sense of urgency, anything but the empty motions of pure habit. _

_ Shiro didn’t care anymore.  It had been too long. _

_ He barely looked as he blocked with the Galra arm, almost willing it to give to the weapon, to bend and break.  But it held, same as always, and a quick activation cut through the spear, leaving the blade to fall to the dirt. _

_ The opponent’s eyes went wide.  Terrified.  They scrambled back and away, knowing they’d lost their only advantage, their single Favor. _

_ They should have known better.  No Favor had decided a battle against Shiro, after all. _

_ Without even trying to turn the arm off, without attempting to resist the inevitable, Shiro’s arm shot forward, to- _

__ -to sink into their chest-

_ -to sink into their chest, and... wait.  How did...? _

__       Shiro!

_ Shiro?  Not Champion? _

__ __       Oh, Shiro...

That’s... no!  No!  Get out!

__ _        ...Allura frowned, eyes bright with worry.  “The black lion is active.  And it’s sending out a distress signal.” _

I do  _ not _ need help.  The distress is mine alone. Get.  Out.

__       We want to help.

No!  It won’t help.  You’ll see.  You’ll know.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __       We already saw.

...You did.  You know.  They know, they’ve seen, they know what it means they know what I am they’ll leave they’ll leave they’ll be hurt-

__ __ __ __ __       Stop!  No,  _ no!_

__       We don’t- why do you think...?

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __       We’re  _ sorry _ , please stop-

__ __ __ __ __ __       Shiro? ...W-what are you doing?  This feels strange.

I know.  You’ve seen it, so you know.  I’ll  _ prove _ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies now for Hunk's searingly bright color. This might change slightly if I can find a better yellow for this. For the moment, if you have issues, please let me know, and just go ahead and highlight Hunk's thoughts. (I'm sorry hun, I love you but you have the worst color for showing up on this site)


	15. The Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Due to the nature of some parts of this, we're going to assume the speech in some parts is originally in languages other than English. But also due to the nature of the situation, we're similarly going to assume we're getting a mentally translated version.
> 
> Also, if you have skins disabled, it's advised you take them off so as not to lose the formatting. But if you don't want to turn it back on, the order of the thoughts is Keith > Lance > Hunk > Pidge

I’ll prove it.  Show me.

__    Shiro, what- woah!

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __      Ow, stop!  What are y-  _ Pidge curled in further on herself, eyes wide as it registered exactly what it was she was looking at.  It only took seconds to realize it wasn’t Myzax that Shiro was fighting.  Which meant it wasn’t the fight her brother had nearly been in.  Something in Pidge relaxed, just slightly, but it felt like nothing compared to the nausea of watching Shiro fight.  He was visibly scared, and so small compared to the hulking opponent.   _

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ _    Shiro dodged out of the way of a blow, then kicked out at the enemy’s knee.  It gave out, and the sword they’d been holding clattered to the ground just shy of Shiro’s feet.  He picked it up and held it just as the opponent started to charge again.  Pidge’s breath caught in her throat as Shiro swung, eyes narrowed and desperate. _

_                                                                                                       A blue line appeared on the enemy’s throat.  It gushed and sprayed, and then they fell to the ground, twitching and gurgling.   _

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ _     Fumbling for the console, Pidge muted the screen, her heart in her throat and her stomach churning as the opponent went terrifying still.  Shiro dropped the weapon, eyes wide, but it was too late.  He’d won... _

_...He’d won, and the crowd screamed for him, the whole arena nearly shaking with the force of their voices.  It hadn’t been just a lucky one shot.  He’d fought again, and he’d won again.  He was a Champion.  He was a killer. _

_ Shiro had never killed before.  He’d never shot anything more life-like than the shaped targets in marksmanship courses.  But now he was covered and blood and standing over someone’s lifeless body. _

_ He was a murderer. _

__ __ __ __    Stop stop stop!  It’s not like that!

It is.  You saw.

__    We’ve killed too.

...Yes.  I’m sorry.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __    We chose to.  We all chose to do this.

_ Shiro gestured widely to Sam, his whole body practically vibrating with tension.  “They haven’t even graduated yet. I’m the only commanding officer they’ve ever known.  So when I go off, what the hell examples do they have to know how wrong that is?” _

__ __ __ __ __    We  _ chose _ to.  I told you.

__ __ __ __ __ __    What were you looking for in my memory?

Emotions. That you know.

__ __ __    Know what?  You keep saying that.

I’m like them.  A monster.

__    No.  Shut up.  You’re not.

__ __ __ __ __ __    No!

Stop lying.

__ __ __ __    We’re not!

Lying.  But I know.               __

__ __ __    Would you just trust us on this? 

If you won’t admit it, I’ll prove it.

__ __ __ __     Aah!  H-hey, you’r-  _ Shiro was unnaturally still, eyes blank and movements robotic.  But he’d wasn’t struggling anymore, held down by the magnets, and-  _ Shiro, stop!  How are you even doi-  _ and he kicked out at Coran, bending with a flexibility that didn’t look fully human. _

__ __ __ __ _      Then Allura held him down, keeping him from escaping, and Shiro went wild for several painfully long seconds.  The look in his eyes near animal, and Hunk’s stomach twisted with fear. _

See?  You know.

__ __ __ __ __     No!  You didn’t finish it.  Stop cherry picking my memories to tell me how I feel!   _...twisted with fear for Shiro.  He was hurting, and trapped, and he was going to feel just awful when he was back.  There was wariness there, aware that Shiro’s arm was powerful enough to do damage.  But it was pinned down now anyway, and that nervousness was nothing compared to how much Hunk ached with sympathy._

...But you know.

__ __ __    I told you to trust us.

It’s only okay because I taught you it is.

__ __    Yeah?  How, exactly?

_ Horror made Shiro’s body feel numb, as they all stayed so casual.  He’d snapped on that bounty hunter, and it was something to joke about.  They’d all have done the same.  He’d taught them that.  They were learning from him. _

__ __ __ __ __ __    Yeah, no.  Fuck that.  He said... that.

__    Agreed.

See?

__ __ __    What, are we not allowed to disagree with you anymore?  Have our own opinions?

What?  Of course you are.

__    Then why is it your fault we didn’t care?

Because I made it okay!

__    I would have wanted to kill him before I met you.

__ __ __ __ __ __     He threatened me!  I’m allowed to hate him.  I’m  _ glad. _  What’s that got to do with you?

I’m your commanding officer.  I influence you.  You deserve better.  You deserve-  _ the hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting where Shiro had expected coldness, had expected disappointment.  He looked up, still in the pilot chair he’d dozed off in in the middle of a check.  Commander Holt’s eyes were sad as he met Shiro’s gaze. _

_ He flinched from it, but the hand squeezed tighter, and he forced his eyes back up. _

_ “You shouldn’t be here alone,” Commander Holt told him, voice slow and careful. _

_ Taking a deep breath, Shiro nodded. “Yes, sir.”  It was true.  He’d applied for a junior position, and now his inexperience was showing. _

_ Commander Holt frowned.  “That wasn’t a condemnation.  That was an observation.  Why on Earth they decided to only send one pilot... no one can stay awake for six months, Lieutenant.” _

_ Eyes wide, Shiro’s shoulders suddenly relaxed.  “Sir?” _

_ “These conditions are unacceptable,” Commander Holt told him simply.  “And there was no harm done this time.  For now, please go get some extra sleep.  I can handle the system check for today.” _

_ Shiro stayed still for a long moment, then finally offered a relieved smile.  “Thank you.  I thought you’d be upset.” _

_ “Of course I’m not upset-” _

__ __ __ __ __ __ __     _ “Of course I’m upset!” Dad snapped, hand smacking down on the table.  The noise made Katie jump, and she took a step back, but Dad didn’t stop.  “Do you know how rare those are?”_

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ _     Holding onto the now ruined remains of the old video footage, Katie looked down at her shoes.  “I... I just wanted to watch the movie.” _

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ _    “I told you no!” Dad took off his glasses and scrubbed over the bridge of his nose.  “You never listen when I tell you- dammit, Katie.  Room.  Now!” _

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ _     Starting to sniffle, she clutched the casing to her chest.  “But I-” _

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ _    Dad threw up his hands.  “What did I just say?” _

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ _    The furious shout made the tears finally fall, and Katie turned and bolted up the stairs, not stopping until she reached her room and slammed the door behind her.  Collapsing on her bed, she threw the VHS to the floor then clutched her pillow, muffling her angry tears. _

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ _    Below her, she could hear the muffled voices of her parents, louder as they started to argue.  Then the door slammed, horribly loud, and after a few moments she could hear the sounds of a paintball gun being fired. _

...I don’t understand.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __     Dad’s not perfect.  He loses his temper too.  Stop using him to beat yourself up.  I’m really sick of it.

Sam’s temper never got anyone killed.

__ __ __ __ __       You didn’t have a choice.

You don’t understand!

__ __ __      Then help us to.

You know what?  Fine.  

__ __    Shiro?

You wanted to see?  Now you’ll see.

__ __ __     We weren’t-

_ It was the first fight of the night, and already Shiro could barely stand. _

_ He felt hollowed out and gutted, and his stomach twisted on itself, empty. _

_ It had been days since Shiro had eaten.  How many, he couldn’t tell.  Without the regularity of meals, he’d lost track.  But he knew he was weakening. _

_ Shiro also knew they’d keep refusing to feed him until he killed.  If he was struck down for bucking the rules, the Patrons would be upset.  But if he just lost a fight because he couldn’t hold his weapon, well, no one was Champion forever. _

_ So far, he’d managed. Shiro hated to give in.  Hated to give them the satisfaction, hated to play their games.  Hated to let them break him. _

_ But it wouldn’t be too long before Shiro couldn’t keep this up.  Now was the breaking point. _

_ Shiro didn’t want to die like this. _

_ Someone in the games circuit must have wanted him to win, because this opponent wasn’t one of his usual type.  They never wanted Shiro to have easy fights, unless someone paid them enough, and this hadn’t been declared a Favor match. _

_ This was a chance. _

_ If anything, that made Shiro want to resist more. _

_ Except that the slow gnaw of hunger, his body eating itself alive for lack of anything else, was grinding him down more effectively than just pain ever had.  It was clouding his head, making him forget why he wanted to fight this in the first place.  It was shredding his temper, leaving him twitchy and jumpy. _

_ Hunger was making Shiro an animal. _

_ The opponent charged, swinging their claws and snapping something that didn’t fully register anymore.  Shiro moved out of the way without any of his normal grace. _

_ Then he closed his eyes.  And he struck. _

_ Because it was kill or die, and Shiro had made his choice. _

_ Because- _

__ _       -Because the hunger was a constant, painful distraction.  It was impossible to care about multiplication or the daily reading when it sank into his stomach like claws.  It was impossible to look out at the world without the haze of pain.  It frayed him, and he hated it.   _

_                 There was food to eat, they just wouldn’t give him any at home.  Not until he said the right words for them and gave the right smiles, and Keith was done with it all.  So done with listening to them scold him and holding back what he needed. _

_               So when the older kids teased him on the playground, voices high and mocking as they wondered if he was too stupid to know how to play the game, Keith turned and he hit, again and again.  Because- _

_ Because hunger was just- _

__ _     -Just another way to- _

_ -To control you.  Food just another- _

__ _    - Another way to hurt you.  And this time he was- _

_ -Was going to hit- _

__ _    -Hit first. _

__ __ __ __ __ __       Shhh.  It’s okay.  Come back.  Both of you.

     If you’re a monster, so am I.

     No one here’s a monster.

Keith...

   Don’t.

But-

      Don’t!

     Seriously, are you okay?

   I’m going to regret sharing that if you don’t all shut up.

      I still don’t understand what that has to do with our behavior.

     Huh?

   Shiro’s not a monster.  But if he was, what does that have to do with how we act?

Normalizing it.  I’m your C.O.  It’s an authority figure.  It’s an influence.

    Hardly.

It is!

     No, I’m with Keith.  I’ve never wanted to do something because Iverson did it first.

I set the tone for what’s acceptable behavior.  I need to be a better example.

     We’re not little kids.  We’re responsible for our own actions.

No-

     He’s right. We have other influences.  You are not the end all, be all.

Not like this.

    ...Hey, Shiro. Who are your influences?

Huh?

   Who did you look up to?  Who changed how you’d be?  Like...  _    Mama soothed his hair away from his forehead, then pressed a gentle kiss there.  “Honey, don’t you worry about it.  If you get into that school, we’ll find a way.”   _

_    Lance took a shaky breath, “But-.” _

_       “No.  It’s just money.  We will find a way.  I’ll make one.  But you won’t give up your chance, you hear me?  You’re going to go do great things, and you’ll make everyone so, so proud.” _

_    “Careful,” Grandpa murmured, leaning over Hunk’s shoulder as he held up his hand.  The young horse watched the hand warily, but didn’t move away as Hunk finally touched.  He stroked the soft nose, giggling at the velvety texture.  “That’s my boy.” _

_     Hunk glanced up, beaming.  “Can I ride him?” _

_    “Not yet. He’s not big enough.  For now, we’re going to protect him instead.  That’s important too.   We can’t ask anything if we can’t give something in return, you know.” _

_    “Thumb out of your fist.  You want to break it? Over your knuckle, like this.  There you go.  Now... swing!”  Jamie’s lips thinned, then she shook her head.  “We’ll work on that.” _

_    Keith frowned up at her, eyes narrowed.  “Why are you helping me?” _

_    Smirking, Jamie shrugged.  “We live in the same house.  You getting beat up reflects badly on me.”  But when Keith looked away again, frowning, she sighed.  “And ‘cause nobody else is teaching you, and you’ve got a right to defend yourself.  So I’ll do it.  Besides, if you’re going to get in fights, you’re going to do it right, hear me?  Don’t get into anything if you’re not going to give it your all.” _

_    “What’s that?”  Katie asked, pointing to one of the print-outs on the table. _

_    Mom’s brows raised for just a moment, and her lips curled up mischievously.  “A graph.”  When Katie pouted, she laughed.  “It shows how the different chemicals I’m working with react in different scenarios.” _

_    “Were you right?” Katie asked, eyes wide and excited.  “Do the chemicals say so?” _

_    Sighing, Mom shook her head.  “Not like I’d hoped, I’m afraid.”  That made Katie frown, and she sulkily flipped the graph upside down.  “Oh, sweetie, no.  It’s okay to be wrong.  That’s what science is about.”  She turned her work back over, then ruffled Katie’s hair.  “It’s not about being personally correct.  It’s about finding the truth.  That’s what science is.” _

_ “Takashi,” Mother murmured, voice rough and soft.  When he stepped forward, she cupped his cheeks in both too-thin hands, then pressed a kiss to his forehead.  “Be good.” _

_ The memory hazed, filmed over like a photograph left in the sun- _

_ He was sitting in his aunt and uncle’s living room, the huge, expensive TV on.  Takashi only understood every few words, and most if it was too fast to even begin to figure out a meaning.  It was only source of light in the room, other than the small clock displaying it was after 11.  The cereal from dinner was still sitting on the coffee table.  They still weren’t home again, and he wondered if they’d gone in a trip and he had just forgotten again... _

... _ Commander Holt, with his hand on Shiro’s shoulder, reassuring him that the expectations on him were too much, and it was okay to screw up. _

      ...Yeah, that explains it.  Shiro, we love you, but it’s not the same.

Oh.

   Hey, I didn’t mean- I just want you to understand.  Not to feel bad.

I still don’t understand.  How can you not see it?

      Because that’s how  _ you _ see it.

   Let us be our own people, Shiro.  Don’t assume we feel the way you do.  That’s way worse than any example you’re supposedly setting.  We’re not just extensions of your feelings.

        Trust us.

I do!

   In combat, sure.  But to be honest with you?  To share when things are wrong?  To have our own opinions and emotions?

...Oh.  I’m sorry.  I knew I was doing that, but I didn’t think-

       It’s okay.  

   Hey, remember when we thought Shiro was perfect?

     I think that was just you, dude.  I didn’t have his posters.

    Shut up!

_     “How did you even manage that?” Keith asked, awed. _

_    “I don’t know!” Shiro groaned, still wiping at his face with a towel.  The purple stain didn’t come off.  “I think someone left hair dye in the showers, and I was reaching for the conditioner, and...” _

_    Keith leaned back in the chair, brows up.  “It’s ID picture day.  Did you remember?” _

_    Eyes wide, Shiro turned to look at him.  “It’s- no!”  He scrambled for his calendar, then froze when Keith started to laugh.  “You ass!  That’s not even a thing!”  That only made Keith laugh harder. _

Keith!

   You looked like the blueberry kid from Willy Wonka!

Please don’t start.

     Oh, are we sharing Shiro memories?  How about when _     Hunk stared up at Shiro, biting his bottom lip.  The memory of the fight they’d just seen on the screen made his stomach turn, even though he’d already thrown up earlier.  “I just... I could use a hug.  From you.”_

    _ Shiro paused, surprised and concerned.  Then he moved closer, wrapping his arms around Hunk, warm and secure.  Just having him close by, knowing he was still with them and that he’d survived helped.  That he’d come back and was there with them.  And Shiro always managed to make Hunk feel a little calmer and more like things would be okay.  Plus, he just gave nice hugs. _

Hunk, I-

_    Like a switch being thrown, Shiro melted into Pidge.  Finally, the stress of the battle with Osaha earlier seemed to ease out of him, at least a little.  She held on tight in return, so glad to simply have him there, soothing them both as best she could manage.  There was a sort of desperate pride to it, that Shiro was so strong to keep coming back to them, over and over.  Because the coming back was what mattered. _

You...

_    By now, the shock of finding Shiro where the craft had landed had begun to ware off.  Stepping out into the sunrise, Keith watched Shiro for a moment, taken back by the surrealness of the moment.  He was here.  Yes, he looked different, and Keith was afraid to find out what that arm was about, but Shiro was back.  It was a flood of emotions, nearly painful in the intensity, and he had to take a moment to breath and control himself.  Shiro was back, and Keith was so, so very glad. _

_    Bursting through the door, Lance saw Shiro sitting up in the cot and looking around.  He was confused but alert.  And he was himself, clearly and openly.  He was back, no longer the automation the arm had made of him.  Lance launched himself at Shiro, wrapping his arms around him without any hesitation, dragging Shiro closer until the longer bangs touched his shoulder.  He was back! _

Y-you all... I-

   You okay?

I’m coming out now.

***

Disconnecting, Shiro gasped like he’d been under water the whole conversation.

Around him, the black lion hummed in satisfaction, just shy of smug.  The screen flashed the Voltron symbol.

“I should thank you,” Shiro mumbled.  Speaking took an exhausting amount of effort.  “But I think I’m still mad.  Check in later.”

The screen displayed a timer for four hours.

Ha.

Standing slowly, Shiro headed for the hatch.  After what felt like hours in the relative darkness of the lion, the glare of the castle’s lights were nearly too much.  He covered his eyes as he stepped out, and took another deep breath.

The movement of the black lion - all the lions, actually, now that he could see - seemed to have caught the attention of Allura, Coran, Sam and Matt.  They started to move over, but Shiro held up a hand.

It still felt a little like he was swimming through something thick.  Or maybe he wasn’t fully disconnected from the others yet, because he could still see the way they saw him so clearly.  How he was a comfort, a source of strength, something positive.

All things Shiro had thought he’d known, but that had never fully registered until just now.

“Shiro!”  Pidge called, already stepping out of the green lion.  The rest were opening too, and Shiro turned to face them, still blinking and dazed.

Without waiting for the others, Pidge started to run.  She crashed into him, nearly hard enough to send them both sprawling to the floor, then clung like he was going to leave and she’d do anything to stop him.

Then, it finally hit.

Shiro wrapped his arms around Pidge in return, not worrying at all about his arm or hurting her.  He crashed to his knees, taking her down with him.  

Then he buried his face in her curls and cried.

Not just cried.  Sobbed.  No dignity, no attempts to hide, no room for shame.  For the first time since escaping, since Kerberos, since he was young, he didn’t try and muffle himself.  Shiro trusted them, so he opened up and he let it all out.

As the others reached them, they held on too, murmuring words that Shiro didn’t need to really hear, except for tone.

Once, years ago, he remembered reading a question and answer.  

When is a monster not a monster?  

When it’s loved.

At the time, he’d thought that was stupid.  No amount of love changed a monster’s fundamental nature.  It was an outside force independent of the monster’s state.

Shiro still didn’t really disagree with his original thoughts.  After all, terrible people were loved all the time.

But it made him feel better anyway.


	16. The End

“How are you doing, Takashi?” Sam asked, settled in his usual chair.

Sighing, Shiro shook his head, brushing his bangs out of his face.  “Fine?  Mostly I feel stuffed up.  I’m really sick of crying, now.”

Sam’s lips curled up.  “How many times are you up to?”

“Since the first?” Shiro took a moment to count.  “Five, I think.  It just keeps happening.  I’ll be fine one second, and then a stray thought will hit and I won’t even be sad.  I’ll start leaking.  It’s getting to be a problem.”

As hard as Sam tried to keep a professional expression, Shiro could see the way he was physically biting his cheek to keep from smiling.  “You have a lot of emotions that never got an outlet, you know.”

“Does it have to be by crying?” Shiro complained.  But despite his words - and it really was just venting and whining - he felt better.

Actually better.  Lighter.  All those times before, he’d nodded his head and agreed that he had to improve.  And he’d meant it.  But ‘doing better’ had just been another thing to worry about and stress over.  Was he doing better  _ enough? _  Why wasn’t he?  What were the consequences?  What were the others thinking?

But after having his mind literally shoved into the way the others perceived him, it was a lot harder to believe that they all saw Shiro as a negative influence.  Which in turn meant it was easier to recognize when he his brain was going down dark paths.

Shiro wouldn’t say he’d taken more than a few steps in terms of recovery.  He still didn’t sleep well, he had times it was hard to imagine he was anything but irredeemable.

But it helped.  It made the good days more common, and the bad days easier to get through.  At least so far.

Though Shiro could still do with less crying.

“I’m actually surprised at the lack of reaction,” Shiro said, head tilted back against the top of the couch.  “From the others, I get it.  They’ve felt it now, so they’re not going to make fun.  But I expected at least some surprise.  Hell, I keep expecting Matt to give me shit for the constant sniffling.”

Sam snorted.  “He’d better not.  He has his own symptoms, and he knows if he bothers you over these, you’ll return it with interest.”

Meeting Sam’s eyes, Shiro grinned, toothy and competitive.  “Yeah.  I would.”

And it still made him nervous, to display that kind of behavior.  It slipped away quickly, because Shiro had the lingering fear they’d see it and think  _ ‘he’s too dangerous’ _ .  After all, it was the kind of behavior he’d display in the arena, and he didn’t want to be that person.

But, honestly?  They’d all seen so much worse.  A little viciousness wasn’t going to send them all running.

Perspective.  That’s what Shiro had gotten.  He’d been forced into four different perspectives, all agreeing that his view of himself was wrong and that he had to deal with it.

Pausing at the revelation, Shiro sat up properly, brow furrowed.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Sam offered.

Shiro glanced at him.  “Something obvious just clicked, sorry.  Was there something specific we were supposed to talk about today?”

Considering him, Sam seemed to decide not to push.  “Not particularly, if you had a topic in mind.”  When Shiro didn’t offer one, he nodded.  “I talked to Keith, earlier.”

“Yeah?”  The couple of glances they’d all gotten into Keith’s head played behind his eyes.  “About anything in particular?”

Sam arched a brow at him.  “A few things.  But I doubt it’s what you’re thinking.  He wasn’t setting anything up with me.”

Sighing, Shiro nodded.  Yeah, that made sense.  Keith didn’t seem to mind Sam, unlike the way Matt was able to rile him.  But that was far away from trusting him enough to talk about something like that.

Still, he’d hoped.

“What about, then?”

Sam pulled his cane up into his lap, tapping against the metal.  “Well, mostly he was looking for suggestions for outlets.”

Huh.  Shiro considered that, head tilted.  “I guess we are kind of limited.  There’s only so much of the castle we can run with the amount of people we have, and we can’t go and get more stuff when it gets old.”  His lips curled up.  “We could do more paintball.”

“Oh, that’s happening,” Sam told him.  “You don’t get a say in it.  You tempted me with paintball and now you will suffer the consequences.   All you get is an hour warning.”

Grinning, Shiro nodded. “Understood.”

Sam settled back down, tapping the cane again.  “But it wasn’t about the group.  Well, somewhat.”  Then he paused and sighed.  “Actually, I think he should explain it.  I’d advise you go look for him after this.”

Brows up, Shiro nodded.  “Okay.  Good talk.  Very informative topic.”

Reaching over with the cane, Sam rapped it against Shiro’s knee.  “I get enough sass from my other two children.  I don’t need it from you.”

Shiro opened his mouth to continue to sass, cane be damned, but then he paused.  “Other?”

Sam froze, then pulled his arm back.  “Yes.  Well.  I suppose I mean...”  Then he sighed and closed his eyes.  “Yes.  I don’t know what your situation back on Earth is.  But I hope you know you always have a place in our home.”

Chest tight, Shiro nodded, tiny and jerky.  Then he swallowed hard and reached up, wiping at his eyes.   _ “Dammit.  _  Again.”

“Sorry,” Sam replied, though he didn’t sound particularly apologetic.  “Do you need a tissue?”

Shaking his head, Shiro just wiped it with his shirt.  The Altean clothing was thick and soft, and it was dark enough that it didn’t show where the fabric was wet.

Which also reminded Shiro that at some point he really needed to get his own clothing, rather than wearing whatever Coran scrounged up for him in the castle.  Not least of which because he felt a bit like Coran’s doll.  He had the sneaking suspicion he was wearing something he wouldn’t have picked out for himself, if he knew the cultural context.  

“Thank you,” Shiro finally responded.  “I do.  Though I think this is maybe something you should consult with Dr. Holt.”

Sam huffed.  “She’ll agree with me.  I know her pretty well, you know.”

Lips quirking up, Shiro eyed him.  “I should hope so.”

That earned him another threatening shake of the cane.  “Speaking of emotional topics, I suppose now we both have enough distance from Kratok for me to apologize.”

Shiro stared at him, brow furrowed.  “What for?”

Pushing himself to his feet, Sam moved over to sit next to Shiro on the couch, rather than his own separate chair.  “I specifically pulled myself from the tech team to watch over you.  And I wasn’t much help was I?”

“I didn’t let you be any help,” Shiro replied.  “Half the time I ran off own my own anyway.”

Sam eyed him.  “Yes.  Yes you did.  But I still feel I could have done more.”

Slumping over until their shoulders touched, Shiro shook his head.  “No.  I was determined to dash head first into that wall.  Hell, I damn near took you with me.”  The sheer stupidity of jumping into an unnecessary fight with Sam on his back still made his stomach twist.

“I understand.  We all do.  At that point, you clearly weren’t all there.  I hated watching you do that to yourself,” Sam sighed.  “And I couldn’t think of any way to talk you out of it.  So I waited for the right words, and it kept getting worse.”

Shiro closed his eyes.  “I’m sorry.”

“I believe I started this apology, and I’ll thank you not to but in,” Sam muttered in return, eyeing him.

Lips quirking up, Shiro nodded and met his gaze.  “How about we call it even?”

Sam smiled back and reached up, cupping the side of Shiro’s head and pulling him down closer.  “You’re a good boy, Takashi.”  Then he paused, considering.  “It’ll be odd to have a Holt that can reach the top shelves.  But nice.  We’ll put you to work.”

Unable to help it, Shiro closed his eyes and grinned, letting himself be guided down to rest on Sam’s shoulder.  “I can do that.  I’m not opposed to hard work.”  But then he snorted.  “You’re bending my spine like this, though.”

“Scoot your legs over more.  You’re not moving.”

Shiro snickered.  “Yes, sir.”

He didn’t end up getting up for a good while.

And he didn’t even feel guilty about it.  Progress.

***

“Shiro.”

Turning, Shiro offered Keith a smile.  “Hey.  I was just looking for you, actually.”

That made Keith pause, and he frowned.  “Why?”

“Sam mentioned I should,” Shiro replied blandly.  “He was very mysterious about it, too.”

Considering, Keith frowned, but then nodded.  “Okay.  Good.  That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.  We finished something, and you should see it.”

Goodie, now Keith was being cryptic as well.  Brows up in bland interest, Shiro nodded.  “Alright.  Lead the way.”

Keith turned on his heel and started back down the hall, hands in his pockets.  After a moment he glanced back.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Too late, you already did.  You had one question and you used it up.”  Shiro grinned at Keith’s answering scowl.  “Go for it.”

“Are you still mad?”  Keith met his eyes full on, but there was a wary tension to his shoulders.

Shiro reminded himself that it was how Keith was, not a reflection on himself.  Today, it stuck.

Smiling back, he nodded.  “Absolutely.”

Keith’s next step faltered, and his eyes went wide.  “You... But you haven’t been acting mad.”

“Mhmm,” Shiro replied easily, keeping up with Keith’s pace.  “I understand why you guys watched.  If it had been in front of me like that, I would have.  But I’m pissed as all hell that you kept it from me.  For months.”

Keith scowled.  “You’d want to watch.”

“It wasn’t your place to keep me from watching,” Shiro replied.  “It was my fights and my year, and I had a right to know about the footage of me.  Still have, in fact.”  He glanced sideways at Keith.  “And, frankly, I’ve been biting back a lot of irritation, these past months.  I’m not too rushed about dropping this.”

That made Keith frown.  “You’re going to bring this up forever, aren’t you?”

Shiro smiled in return.  “Only when you really piss me off.  And you told the others about the purple dye.  I don’t want to hear it.”

“Lance made that comment,” Keith pointed out, openly sulking.  “What else was I supposed to think about?”

The fact that Keith’s reaction to Shiro’s obvious ire was to  _ pout _ , rather than run, was kind of wonderful.

Knocking their shoulders together, Shiro eyed him.  “I’ll get over it.  And I’m watching those videos, someday.  But it doesn’t have to be right now.”

Keith nodded, looking satisfied.  “Good.  And we have this surprise for you, so that should count in our favor.”

“I’ll think about it,” Shiro replied, downright chipper.  Looking around, he finally focused on where Keith was taking them.  “The hangar?”

Humming in response, Keith opened the door, then nodded to one of the small two-seater ships.  Or, it had been, until Hunk and Pidge had clearly gotten their hands on it.  It wasn’t a particularly pretty ship, with panels that were clearly from different places originally, but it at least looked space-worthy.

One brow up, Shiro considered.  “Cool.  But I’m not sure why.  We have the lions.”

“The lions aren’t good for what we want,” Keith replied simply.  Walking to the ship, he dug out a helmet and shoved it into Shiro’s chest.  It was the standard kind for the ship, rather than the specialized ones of the paladin armor.  “That’s why I talked to Sam.  You need time when you’re not thinking about being a leader or a paladin or whatever.  And I don’t know anytime you’re more focused and happy then when you’re flying.”

Holding on tighter to the helmet, Shiro considered that.  It was true.  The lions were so different, and due to the connections required to fly them properly, he was never really zoned in the way he was for, say, Matt’s flight program.  And that was always for training, so he was usually focused on whoever he was working with at the time.

This was...

This would be just Shiro.

Keith offered a small smile at the dawning look of comprehension.  “We won’t come with you, and we won’t talk to you.  There’s a tracker in it, because it’d be stupid not to, considering.  But it’ll be just you.  I talked to Allura.  We’re staying still for the next few hours, if you want to try it out.”

Drumming his fingers on the helmet, Shiro stared.  Then he jammed it onto his head and stepped forward, ruffling Keith’s hair.  “Next time, we’ll go together.”  When Keith started to speak, Shiro shook his head.  “I get what you’re saying.  I agree.  But sometimes, I want to spend time with you guys anyway.  And it’ll be like old times.”

Finally nodding, Keith shot him a warm look, even as he ducked to knock off Shiro’s hand.  His hair stuck up on top from the playful treatment.  “I’d like that.”

“Good.”  As he opened the hatch, Shiro eyed the screens.  “Is there anything I should know before I start?”

Keith grinned.  “Hmm.  Figure it out.  Be sure there’s not anything in front of you when you try the additions.”

Catching his eye, Shiro grinned.  

This would be fun.

As he sat down and closed the hatch, the consoles lit up and the engine hummed, without any sort of consciousness to it.

Shiro loved the black lion, but sometimes it was nice to do something so simple.

Putting his hands on the controls, Shiro took a moment to look over everything, settling his head into what he was doing.

Then he  _ flew. _

  
It was good to be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, everyone, is the end.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this little experiment of continuity and storytelling as must as I've enjoyed telling it. The Spectrum series has been my obsession for the past six months now, and I'm a little sad to see it (kind of) end, but it's also wonderful it got to get it's neat and tidy end before Season 2 comes out.
> 
> Over the next week, I will be posting deleted scenes and background information, as well as answering any questions on Spectrum, it's characters and anything in between. You can find all of that [on my tumblr](http://bosstoaster.tumblr.com).
> 
> Also, I say this is 'kind of' the end, in that the main 'canon' series is over, but I'll still be posting small, light fics inside the continuity. Essentially, if I have something I want to do with Sam/Matt or with the characters as they are here, I reserve the right to do so. Keep an eye out for that. Coming up first is 'five times Shiro was hugged' (return to form, ain't it sweet?), and later I do plan on writing out Shiro watching the footage of his time as a gladiator.
> 
> For now, I say goodbye, and I'll see you Thursday for something completely different.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me at Bosstoaster.tumblr.com for updates, prompts and more.


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